


Sweet Revenge

by mousaerato



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Adultery, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Food Kink, Hurt/Comfort, Knifeplay, Light Bondage, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Revenge, Seduction, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-26
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-10 19:13:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 36
Words: 42,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mousaerato/pseuds/mousaerato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, "In which Dirk and AR are Iago from Othello, and Jane is extremely sexually frustrated."</p><p>Jake breaks Dirk's heart in the most careless way possible. Dirk plans to break his in the most twisted way possible.</p><p>This was for a request from a friend of mine for a Portal Ship fic. (I don't actually ship this pairing, so this was a challenge.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

GT: I’m sorry Dirk. I really am about all this.  
TT: Jake, stop. It’s not really your fault.  
GT: I know i must seem like the biggest buffoon right now but you deserve honesty.

     Your name is Dirk Strider, and while you were certainly steeling yourself for this, you didn’t think it would hurt _this_ bad. 

GT: I should have said something so much earlier strider. During our correspondence i thought that maybe you had felt *something* towards me.

     You clench your eyes tightly shut for two seconds, giving yourself a momentary reprieve. Jake was right, though – you needed to see and know the truth, no matter what. Inhaling sharply, you open your eyes again as Pesterchum alerts you to new messages from golgothasTerror.

GT: I guess i figured that since you were from a whole different place i was misunderstanding your signals. I should have known better really. How long have you felt this way?

      _He’s so fucking dense,_ you think to yourself. It’s in moments like these you hate yourself for falling in love with him, that buck-toothed, oblivious wannabe action hero, metaphorically and literally in his own damn world. Somehow, though, you only grew to find those things endearing about him, even if they were occasionally difficult to deal with. Like now. You realize you can’t break the pace of your conversation, lest he possibly become aware of your emotional state, so you decide to bite the bullet. What more could happen at this point?

TT: Years, Jake. Years.  
GT: YEARS?  
TT: Three years. I wanted to tell you for a long time, but the perfect opportunity never presented itself. I figured, “Why not today?”  
GT: Oh frig i am the worst possible friend arent i?

     You briefly entertain a cruel response by typing “Yes. Right now, you are quite literally the worst, most selfishly ignorant friend-slash-love interest a totally rad dude could ask for.” You quickly press ctrl+A and the backspace key, however. You will not let him know – for his sake and for your own dignity.

TT: Don’t beat yourself up, man. If anything, it’s my fault. I had three years of talking to you, getting to know you, and plenty of opportunities to tell you. Shit, I even sent you a robot who could have easily have relayed a message, and I didn’t do it. It’s only natural that I’d lose my chance, given how many of them I squandered.  
GT: If it helps dirk i want you to know that i think youre an amazing chap. Any guy on earthd be positively lucky to catch your eye even if your eyes are always obfuscated by your blasted glasses-slash-robot-clone.

     You almost want to laugh – Jake still doesn’t understand the difference between robots and artificial intelligence, even though you’ve tried to explain it to him a thousand times. You tentatively place your fingers back on your keyboard, hoping to muster up a smooth, clever response, possibly trying one last time to explain the differences, but for some reason, you can’t. Maybe it’s because the comment would fly right over his dark-haired head. Maybe it’s because of that warm, nauseated knot in your stomach, but for the first time in a while, you’re at a loss for words. You decide to go the gentlemanly route.

TT: Thanks. Jane’s really lucky to have you. Best of luck, bro – especially with the distance between the two of you.   
GT: I dont know how were going to make it work exactly but were going to try. But remember when i said i needed to be totally honest with you?

     You feel your stomach clench up and turn a little. You feel a bit of a cold sweat start to develop on your face – man, people weren’t just being poetic or ironic when they called it “lovesick.” You tap at your wastebasket to bring it closer to you, just to be safe.

TT: Yeah, what’s on your mind?  
GT: I just thought you should know i did entertain the thought of you and i being together for a while.

     Part of you wants to scream at him, arguing that the implications of his statement are that he _doesn’t like Jane as much as he likes you_ , but you refuse, yet again, to show your feelings. It’s too late already, and to be honest, you’re not sure you want to lose him as a friend, either, even if knowing he’s with someone else makes you feel sick.

     Another message.

GT: Well always be friends though right? I understand if you dont want to be.  
TT: Of course I will still be friends with you. If anything, this might actually be a good idea – concupiscent relationships are pretty tumultuous anyway. 

     You secretly hope he takes your comment as a reason to be wary of his feelings towards Jane, and maybe to take a better look at what feelings he’s experienced towards you, but you know this kind of subtlety will slip right past him.

GT: I understand if you need some time to yourself.  
TT: Thanks, but no thanks. I’m just glad to get it off my chest. Don’t worry about it.  
GT: Youre a top-notch guy, strider. You truly are a good friend. I gotta get going though! Janeys online!

\--golgothasTerror [GT] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT]\--

      _Janey_. Did he really have to call her _Janey_ to you? As if you needed yet another reminder that no, Jake does not have feelings for you the way you have feelings for him (even though he just admitted he used to, to make matters worse), and that he’s moved on to the heiress of a baking conglomerate with everything most average Americans would hope for in a potential partner, with whom he is obviously smitten.

     Another message. It’s Lalonde this time. You really, _really_ do not want to deal with her inebriated ramblings or orthographic arabesques right now.

\--tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]\--

TG: dikr  
TG: *dirk  
TG: dirk if ur there talk 2 me  
TG: HELLO  
TT: Roxy, as willing as I usually am to entertain your shipping fantasies and Batterwitch rants, I am not in the mood not now.  
TT: Please.  
TG: im not here to bagder u about nethin or flirt  
TG: i jus wanted to check on u  
TG: jane just mesaged me and told me eerything bout her n jake  
TG: im so sry dirk  
TT: I’m fine.  
TG: BULLSIHT  
TG: **BULLSHIT  
TG: i know you strider  
TG: wahts rly goin on???  
TT: I told him.  
TG: OMG  
TT: Yeah. Worst timing ever, huh?  
TG: Howd he take it  
TT: Fuckin’ told me he actually entertained the idea of being with me for a while.  
TG: what the fuck is wrong with him!!!  
TT: I don’t know anymore, really.  
TG: i thought you were palnning to tell him in person??  
TT: That was a plan for a while, yes. Thing is, I just got impatient. I’ve liked him for a long time and I started to wonder if I was just trying to put it off to stave off rejection, so I asked him if I could talk to him.  
TG: dirk omg  
TT: He said he had good news he wanted to share with me, so I let him tell me first. I...certainly was not expecting that.  
TG: fuckin a  
TT: I couldn’t back down; he was anticipating something serious after my preface.  
TG: so right after you found out jakes with jaen  
TG: *jane  
TG: u tell him yer in love w/him  
TT: Pretty much.  
TG: at least it couldnt get worse right??  
TT: I’ll show you the log.

\--timaeusTestified [TT] sent  tipsyGnostalgic [TG] the file manbrofuckup.txt--

TG: srsly i wanna hit him  
TG: remind me 2 tell jane to smack his jungle ass as hard as possible  
TT: Could we refrain from talking about Jake’s “jungle ass,” please?  
TG: OMFG sorry  
TG: i didnt mean nething by it  
TT: I know, I know.  
TG: what pisses me off  
TG: like REALLY  
TG: about this whole thign  
TG: he acts like he has no fuckin CLUE what to do with people  
TG: he sure knows how to attrach them  
TG: *attract  
TG: but when it comes to actulay DEALING with people  
TG: really could he have picked a WORSE time to tell u he kidna liked you back in the day???  
TT: Between the two of us, sometimes I think he likes the attention of so many potential suitors. Me, Jane, you...  
TG: ngl i was gonna say the asme thing  
TG: *same  
TG: thers just no WAY hes that stupid  
TT: Look at the chat log again, Roxy. He knew I liked him. He knew.  
TG: dirk look  
TG: i know im thousands of miles from you n you probbly get annoyed as shit wth me  
TG: but if you need nething im here  
TG: i wont tell jane or jake  
TG: not even ar  
TG: if you need someone to litsen to you  
TT: Thanks.  
TT: Actually, there is something you can do for me.  
TG: anythin  
TG: whats up?  
TT: Tell me: is this how bad it was for you when you found out I wasn’t interested in you?  
TG: dirk do you RLLY think thats a good tpoic rite now?  
TG: *topic  
TG: given ur feelins currently i mean  
TT: Yes, I do. In fact, I think right now’s the perfect time to have this conversation. How was it when I had to tell you? We’ve never really discussed it.  
TG: well if u wanna kno  
TG: i mean im glad were friends but for the lognest time i was wonderin if maybe it was something wrong with me  
TG: that maybe u likin jake was just some excuse or somethin  
TG: maybe i was too durnk  
TG: *durnk  
TG: **DRUNK  
TG: or some kinda irony  
TG: i just felt stupid  
TT: You are not stupid. You are one of the smartest people I know. You know I’m not kidding about anything good I say about you, right?  
TG: i know  
TG: but when u tell someone your feelins you kinda blaem urself a little  
TG: cuz theyre your feelings and only yours  
TG: but at least you never...you know  
TT: Never what?  
TG: entertained the idea off being w/me  
TG: n if you ever did you never told me  
TG: and you never just sat there w/knowin that like some crpytic tnt waitin for it to esplode  
TG: *all that  
TT: Is it too late to tell you I’m sorry?  
TG: no  
TT: Well, I am. No, I didn’t really think about the idea of being with you because I knew it wouldn’t be fair to you. You deserve someone who really can give you everything you want in a relationship, and I can’t.  
TT: This isn’t really something you can change.  
TG: i understand dirk  
TT: I mean, I’m sure I could feign that kind of attraction to a woman if I had to, but I could never do that to you. You deserve someone who can love you the way you ought to be.  
TT: Someone who can really feel the sparks even when he only holds your hand, someone who’d give you the shirt off his back just because you spilled a little drink on yourself, the whole nine yards. I can’t do that for you, and it is not your fault.  
TG: dirk wow  
TG: i mean ty but whered taht come from?>  
TT: I thought that this wouldn’t hurt this much. The idea of you feeling this way because of me makes me feel terrible.  
TT: I’m sorry, Roxy. I really should have been more sensitive.  
TG: its ok realy  
TG: dont beat urself up  
TG: specially not now  
TG: it gets easier w/tiem  
TG: *time  
TG: but its gonan take a LONG time  
TG: jake should feel bad about how he hanlded this  
TT: He doesn’t. He’s too busy with “Janey.”  
TG: oh god he called her janey to you too!!!  
TT: Yeah. Felt like salt in the wound, just a little.  
TG: so he knew u liked him  
TG: let tat whole thing fester  
TG: thought about bein w/u  
TG: turns you down for jane  
TG: seriously how are you not thinkin about revgence  
TG: *revenger  
TG: **REVENGE  
TT: This burn’s still nice and hot. Sick too, but revenge is a dish best served cold.  
TG: ur kiddin rite  
TT: Possibly.  
TG: lmfao  
TG: glad u still got yr wits strider  
TG: im gonna be here for you until this heals up  
TG: call me nurse rolal  
TG: tendin to your burns  
TG: mendin yr heart  
TT: Thanks. I think I might need some time to myself, though. I’ll talk to you soon.  
TG: take care  
TG: things are gonna be ok i pormise  
TG: *promise  
TG: :3  
\-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT] –-

     Good moirail. Best friend. 

     It’s not until you log out of Pesterchum and lay down in bed that you become aware that Roxy’s pep talk managed to make you smile a little – it’s only when you feel the muscles of your face shift as you take off your shades that you realize there was a difference.

     You sprawl across your bed, tossing around restlessly, unable to find a comfortable position, and most definitely too full of thoughts to sleep. Eventually, you slip off your shirt and your pants, wondering why you hadn’t done that already. Even then, your bed still feels jagged, uninviting, and completely uncomfortable. Eventually, you find some sense of purchase laying on your side, Li’l Cal acting as the little spoon to your big spoon.

     You refuse to cry. You clutch your puppet companion tightly in your arms, and give a shaky exhale. _You will not cry, dammit._ Instead, you turn Li’l Cal so that his bright blue bug eyes and permanent smile meet your face. You look down at him and whisper, “Cal, you’re the only one who never leaves. Rox’s too far away, Bro isn’t here, and Jake’s probably off baking some cream-filled-double-pistol-cupcake thing with his ‘Janey.’”

     You sigh. “Never thought I could hate someone until today, really. He knew how I felt and he never did anything to stop it. Didn’t even bring it up until I did. What did he want, for me to swoon at his feet forever while he picked out whoever he wanted?” Your voice has gotten noticeably angrier.

     “Fuck that,” you say, finally feeling the vibration in your voicebox as you shift from a whisper. “And fuck him. He’s got everyone thinking he’s so goddamn great. Thinks he can manipulate people. He has no clue what he’s about to deal with.”

     Cal only smiles.

     “I knew you’d understand.”

     With that, you fall asleep, pressing Li’l Cal against your chest, his approving, unchanging grin still an obvious constant as you dream on the moon of the Kingdom of Darkness, the home of those who covet, plot, and destroy. For the first time, you feel at home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream Dirk plans. Waking Dirk executes. AR orchestrates.

     Your name is Dirk Strider, and you are the Prince of Heart, a title as deceptive as it is...well, flamboyant. Even _you_ think it’s a little much, and you’re the one in fluorescent purple pajamas with perfectly coiffed hair and pointy anime shades.

     You are awake on the moon of Derse, quietly contemplating as your other self sleeps. The hot, nagging, churning feeling in your stomach has finally subsided, the heat seeming to have moved more to your chest. You no longer feel nauseated, like someone stabbed you through the torso, but you are angry. Very, very angry. Somehow, the darker décor of your dream room seems to encourage your heavy mood.

     Jake English may very well be the hottest man you’ve ever seen, with his short shorts, bright eyes, dark hair, and tanned skin, but he is not a good man. He knew you liked him – scratch that, he knew you were _in love_ with him – and simply fed off of it like a vampire without ever thinking about how it affected _you_. No, Jake English was a selfish, aloof bastard, and it was about time he learned what it feels like to be crushed – to have his soul destroyed. And wouldn’t you know it, Skaia believes that’s what you were made to do. 

     You were not being facetious when you said the name was deceiving.

     Although part of you wouldn’t mind kicking his ass while wearing those puffy asshole knickerbockers. Shit would be just too ironic. Perhaps, however, there was something more ironic.

     Revenge would take clever, skillful planning and crafting; you are already at a significant disadvantage. You have nothing to hold over Jake’s head as a potential thing to hurt him, except maybe if you stopped talking to him. In reality, though, it would probably take him a long time to notice you were gone, and it would only hurt you in all the worst ways. The man you love would be _completely out of your life_ , and you would be forced to feel powerless. The perfect plan would have to involve something close to his heart that he would drop everything for...

     You recall your last conversation with Jake, somewhat against your own wishes. Humiliation and contempt is what comes to mind now, instead of shame and self-loathing, as you replay the emerald and orange text against your mind’s eye. Finally, you get to the last part of your talk:

  
GT: Youre a top-notch guy, strider. You truly are a good friend. I gotta get going though! Janeys online!

\--golgothasTerror [GT] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT]\--

  


     He could have left your window open. He could have run two conversations at the same time – Pesterchum does have the capability. Instead, however, he opted to stop the entire conversation to give Jane Crocker his complete focus. You admit, the idea of being the recipient of Jake English’s undivided and devoted attention is quite appealing, even if he has proven himself to be a selfish asshole. Jane has no idea how jealous you really are, even if you won’t openly admit it.

     Another part of your conversation comes back:

TT: Thanks. Jane’s really lucky to have you. Best of luck, bro – especially with the distance between the two of you.

     Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say. But “they” _also_ say “out of sight, out of mind.” You could try to monopolize Jake’s attention away from Jane, with hopes that eventually, his feelings would dissipate. That’s too easy, though – too transparent. He’s so passionately attracted to Jane, it seems, nothing would tear him from her...

     ...unless she was the one to end it.

     Now, Jane’s a smart woman – you know that. You’ve grown to admire her critical approach to everything, her analytical skepticism, her openness to allowing influence and change if necessary. Trying to say bad things about Jake would be too obvious – plus, you’re sure Jake’s probably told her already. You try to imagine how the theoretical conversation took place:

GT: Well my dear janey would you look at that? It seems dear mister dirk strider is in fact a homosexual!  
GG: Oh my. How exactly did you find out? :B  
GT: Herp derp ive known for years hes had the hots for me but i liked the attention so i never told him that i am not in fact gay!  
GG: Jake, don’t you think that’s a little underhanded of you?  
GT: Now why would i think that? Being considerate is not my strong suit. My concerns are cerulean babes and skulls! To hell with the fact that all my closest acquaintances want to get into my too tight and too short shorts!

     You know Jake would never actually say anything like that, but the mental image is too hilariously satisfying to pass up. Plus, you’re quite sure if Jane ever saw him to be the clumsy, selfish man that you’ve seen him to be, she’d jump ship to someone else in a heartbeat.

TT: I mean, I’m sure I could feign that kind of attraction to a woman if I had to...

     Doing that wouldn’t necessarily be lying, you rationalize. Jane has plenty of great qualities: smart, cheerful, and most certainly not easily deceived. No, if you’re going to do anything involving her, it’s going to have to come out of some piece of honesty, lest she uncover your ruse from the get-go. Plus, it would certainly ameliorate your conscience if your plan was not entirely based on a lie.

     You didn’t have to go out there and wreck shit overtly – all that had to happen was a little nudge in the right direction. Talk to her more, become better friends...

     ...maybe flirt a little...

     Just enough to plant a seed of doubt. It would have plenty of space to grow across the hundreds of miles of ocean separating her and Jake. After that, anything that happens would be entirely her choice.

     Yes, this would work just fine. The perfect combination of subtle manoeuvers, delicate string-pulling, and fine-tuned observation: an operation fit for a Strider. Now, to carefully plan how this revenger’s ploy will oh shit you’re waking up and now you’ve got another consciousness to deal with.

     A quick shower it is, then. 

* * *

      _Hours in the future, but not many..._

     Your name is Dirk Strider, and you have just finished your quick ablution for the day. Only three hours and 14 minutes – a new record for you. You have already taken the time to do your hair, brush your teeth, and moisturize your hands (a part of your daily routine – sword fighting and robot building can make some mean callouses), so you feel quite ready for the plans ahead as you put on the rest of your clothes. 

     Jane’s a few hours behind. Good, because you’re going to need to procure some assistance for this one.

\--timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]\--

TT: I assume I don’t need to inform you of what’s going on.  
TT: You know, it would have been nice if Roxy had checked on me, too. Or if you had asked about my feelings, for that matter.  
TT: I’m offended that just because my processing systems aren’t bound by fragile bits of flesh, you and seemingly all of our friends have decided that I can’t have a stake in this.  
TT: Dude, not now. I need your help.  
TT: I would usually reply with a clear and resounding “fuck you” given that you’re willing to disregard my emotional state for your own plot to achieve sweet, sweet revenge, but seeing as how I am you, I not only understand where you’re coming from, but am also right on board.  
TT: You could have completely foregone that diatribe and simply said “Ok.”  
TT: Well then. “Ok.”  
TT: What’s the plan?  
TT: I want you to do some reconnaissance.  
TT: I can do that.  
TT: You will take any and all messages from Roxy and Jake until further notice. Even if their messages seem positively trivial, I need you to save them in logs and send them to me. The important thing here is to let them talk – the information is crucial.  
TT: And what if Jake is being his usual self?  
TT: That is to say, babbling in pressured syntax about skulls, every movie ever in existence, and his trans-pacific love affair?  
TT: You will be allowed to reap the spoils with me if you do your job. Keep that in mind.  
TT: Then, you can savor any and all messages from Jake with a smug sense of satisfaction. Remember that if you get the urge to ream him.  
TT: Also: don’t lie, just don’t tell the entire truth. I need both of them to assume you’re the organic Strider, or make up some horseshit reason why I can’t answer them at the moment.  
TT: I take it you’re taking care of Crocker?  
TT: Yes. Of all of our friends, she’s the one I speak to the least. I owe it to her to get to know her better, especially since she’s dating our best bro.  
TT: I will officially wager that within two weeks, she will come to conclude that you have romantic yearnings for her.  
TT: That would most definitely be the plan.  
TT: I’ll be sure to distract Jake and Roxy during the process.  
TT: I assumed that was a given that didn’t require explicit instruction.  
TT: We are fucking geniuses, man.  
TT: Yes.  
TT: Hell yes.  
TT: Hell.  
TT: Fucking.  
TT: Yes.

\--timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT]—


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk talks to Jane for the first time since he got the news.

     Jane’s online.

     You’re doing this. You are making this happen.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering gustyGumshoe [GG]\--

TT: Hey Jane. What’s up?  
GG: Hello there Strider! Taking a break from your work I see?  
TT: I guess you could say that, though a guy like me has always got his work cut out for him.  
GG: :B  
TT: Just a side project relating to the autoresponder. Nothing too serious as of yet. We’ll see what happens.  
TT: More importantly though: what are you up to, Miss Heiress? More baking? Another scavenger hunt for Letters of Loving Fatherly Support?  
GG: Funny you should say that, actually. I did find a letter from him today!  
TT: Care to share?  
GG: I don’t know if I should.  
TT: Too mushy? Afraid the scents of fatherly colognes and aftershaves may somehow waft through cyberspace to my father-naïve nostrils?  
GG: Oh, nothing like that! Sheesh.  
TT: Well then, come on. Can’t be that emotionally charged.  


     You already know why she’s hiding this from you. You gulp back with anticipation, preparing for what you already know will sting a little. Only a little though – you’ll admit you’re feeling more than a little superior and prepared this time around.

GG: It’s...in regarding recent events.  
TT: I see. Is it disapproving, but still supportive in the nicest, most paternal way possible?  
GG: You’re right on the paternal support, but not really on the disapproval.   
GG: You certainly are curious about it!  


     Damn. She’s quick on the sleuthing.

TT: Maybe, if only because out of my circle of friends, I really don’t talk to you that much.  
TT: Jake’s my best bro, Crocker. I want to know more about what makes him so happy. I know he likes women of a certain blue shade, so I guess you’ve got him for that, at least in the font department.  
GG: :B   
GG: Really though!  
TT: I want to know, Jane. What’s the Man of the House have to say about your island beau?  
GG: Very well. I’ll type it out.  
GG: “DAUGHTER. IT HAS COME TO MY ATTENTION THAT A YOUNG MAN IS COURTING YOU. YOU HAVE TRULY GROWN TO BE A SMART, CAPABLE, AND BEAUTIFUL YOUNG WOMAN. I AM SO PROUD OF YOU, AND SO, SO GLAD ANOTHER MALE HAS APPRECIATED YOU. NOW, PLEASE MAKE ARRANGEMENTS FOR THIS YOUTH AND I TO MEET. WE HAVE SERIOUS BUSINESS TO DISCUSS.”  
TT: So Jake’s coming to the mainland?  


     This plan may need acceleration, then.

GG: It would certainly seem so, should Dad get his way.  
TT: I assume he always does, judging from the gentle-yet-assertive tone of the note.  
GG: Yes. Except when I pull a fast one on him. :B  
TT: What on Earth could you possibly have to hide from him? A secret cake recipe made from – perish the thought – beets, or some other non-corporate entity?  
GG: You are too funny, Strider!  


     She seems genuinely amused. Good.

TT: If it’s not some conglomerate-clobbering recipe, what is it? Blueprints of pranks guaranteed to overload your prankster’s gambit?  
GG: No, no, nothing like that! :B  
TT: Level with me here, then. I’m drawing a blank. He certainly doesn’t seem like the kind of man who’d berate you for anything.  
GG: I know. It’s just...  
TT: Just what?  
GG: There are some things a girl can’t tell her father, no matter how supportive and compassionate he may be.  
TT: I know exactly what you’re talking about now.  
TT: You’ve got the hots for Lalonde, don’t you.  
GG: WHAT?  
TT: It’s okay, Jane. I understand. She, a drunken hacker, as deadly to the grid ass she is beautiful, and you, a stunning and daring prankster-turned-detective-slash-heiress. Sounds like some kind of modern “opposites attract” romantic comedy of the year.  
TT: I’m sure Jake would love it.  
GG: Oh geez, for a second there I thought you were being serious! :B  
TT: If you can’t tell me what it is, I will automatically assume the wildest, most verboten thing conceivable. Nothing you say could top that.  
GG: Ok.  


     There is a long, pregnant pause. You rest your chin in your right hand as you wait for Jane to continue her thought. You knew she wouldn’t be an easy person to get to spill, but really – what could she possibly have to spill? Besides that, Roxy always did have a tendency to tell you the latest gossip in her exceptionally drunken episodes, so you already knew little bits and pieces about Jane’s love of comedians with facial hair, her interest in unusual, exotic accents, her—

GG: I want to have Jake here without Dad around.  


     Your eyes go wide behind your triangular shades. You’re not entirely sure why you’re shocked by Jane’s frankness – it’s not as if she’s some completely sheltered child or anything like that – but the idea of her and Jake alone in a room together...

TT: I can see why you wouldn’t want to tell Dad Crocker that.  
GG: Are you sure this isn’t uncomfortable for you?  


     Well, it most certainly is uncomfortable to think about Jake having time alone with anyone else; the images come quite easily to you, even if they are unwanted. You can see Jake taking one hand to Jane’s face as he brings his free arm to her waist, pulling her closer into a passionate kiss, Jane’s arms around his neck, one hand cautiously weaving itself into his hair...

     The scene changes. Now Jane is sitting on the edge of her bed, helping Jake out of his jacket and shirt, giving you a view of his chest, broad shoulders, and tanned, lightly-defined abs, as her lily-white hands run down slowly, nervously, and excitedly from his neck, all the way down to finger lightly at the elastic band of his emerald green boxers, just a hint visible above his khaki shorts. You’ve often fantasized about doing this yourself.

     Jake moves himself closer to Jane, understanding where this is going. Jane intuitively falls back onto the bed, allowing Jake to follow, and the scene changes once more. This time, there are no faces – you can only make out a swarthy, muscular, masculine back with pale, desperate, shuddering hands grasping at ruddy, glistening flesh, nails threatening to scratch. Jake is moving – thrusting – and as your imagination wanders around the image, you see white legs wrapping around his waist, feet dangling close to where the small of his back meets what you can only call his _choice ass_ , her toes curling with excitement and pleasure.

     You really, really wish those hands and legs were yours. That is, when you’re not wondering how great it would feel to have him in Jane’s place in that fantasy, especially now. The idea of having him hot, panting, and restless under your touch, completely at the mercy of your every whim, pleading in a raspy, accented voice is enough to send a thrill of arousal and spite-fueled arrogance down your spine. For now though, knowing that won’t be a reality for a good, long time is enough to snap you back to your Pesterchum chat.

TT: Jane, have you seen my illustration work? This is downright tame and wholesome in comparison.  
TT: Only some kind of weird alien species would think what you just said was scandalous. Makes perfect sense you’d want time alone with him.  
GG: Dad wants what’s best for me, I know that, but I can’t take the constant surveillance for much longer! I want a weekend, that’s all.  
TT: So I take it you’re going to keep this under wraps?  
GG: Dad decided in a gesture of “dadly trust” to let me take care of the plane ticket orders.  
TT: That beautiful bastard is too perfect for words.  
GG: :B I’ll be sure to tell him that for you!  
GG: He’s got a weekend assignment coming up soon. It might be a little too early for Jake’s liking, but...  
TT: You know he’s always up for adventure. I guarantee if that plane was heading to Washington tomorrow, Jake would engage any possible distractors or detractors in fisticuffs to make sure he got there on time.  
GG: That’s good to know, Strider. I really am nervous.  
TT: What are you nervous about?  
GG: I’ve never had a boyfriend. I don’t want to mess this up.  
TT: You’ve got nothing to worry about. From what I know of Jake, in your relationship, you are the leader. It’s you.  
GG: Thank you. I should get to telling Jake what’s going on!  
TT: Of course.  
GG: I sure hope he’s on board for this!!!  
TT: Good luck.

\--timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG]—


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane is making plans! Roxy is helping! Meanwhile, AR dons a creamsicle-colored facade and gives Jake English lessons in loving the ladies.

      _Days in the future, but not many..._

     Your name is Jane Crocker, and you must admit that right now, you are confused. First of all, you’re quite excited – Lalonde has agreed to help you plan to get plane tickets for you and Jake to meet! On the other hand, however, the only way you got the nerve to do this was from the encouragement of one Mr. Dirk Strider, a man who has always left you guessing, if nothing else.

     In the conversation you two had, he called you stunning and daring. You thought men of...his ilk couldn’t find women “stunning!” Furthermore, he is certainly taking news of your relationship with Jake quite well. It’s not that you anticipated a cool, composed man like Strider to lose it over something like this, but he’s been surprisingly amiable given the circumstances. Charming, really.

     That’s not to say that Jake isn’t charming or great! Jake’s attractiveness is simply different – not that you think Dirk is attractive or anything. With Jake, his lack of self-awareness can be cute and refreshing; he says exactly what he feels no matter what, and there’s a kind of sincerity to him that you can’t help but fall for, especially given his rugged demeanor on top of it. He would never lie to you, and anything he did or didn’t do would never be with any kind of ulterior motives.

     Right now, though, you wish he’d be a little more perceptive, in particular to the fact that it is not a good idea to stop talking to your girlfriend for three days after she tells you of her plans.

\-- gutsyGumshoe [GG] began bothering tipsyGnostalgic [TG] \-- 

GG: Do you think maybe I moved a little too fast for him?  
TG: no  
GG: Are you sure?  
TG: janey hes a human w/ugres just like anyone else  
TG: *urges  
TG: and even if he wanted to go the old-fahsioned gent route its a good idea to have some to 2 urselves  
TG: cant really relax if uve got that sexy but still authorittavie dad of urs watching  
GG: Roxy!!! He’s my dad! :O  
TG: sry janey  
TG: i got eyes  
GG: Cool it! Either way, he hasn’t spoken to me since I told him the idea.  
TG: o shit  
GG: There are plenty of times where I’ve had to wait for him to answer in the past, but never something like this.  
TG: yah i know ive gotten the ‘brb brobot’ messages before too  
GG: I’m pretty sure he’s okay – he’s not an idle chum on my list.  
TG: maybe hes planning a surprise  
TG: u kno  
TG: liek YOU are  
TG: WONK  


     Roxy’s not shy about taboo topics, but you certainly are to some extent. You knew you’d regret telling her what the weekend would entail if everything went as you hoped! Gosh, you should really know better at this point. Whatever – she’s sauced, and you’re sure you can redirect the conversation to more...dignified waters.

GG: Well, I did make sure our pantry’s good and stocked with everything we’ll need for a nice, home-cooked meal. I rented some movies I think he’ll enjoy...  
TG: jane  
TG: this is jake were talkin about  
TG: ANY movie is one hell love  
GG: I know, I know! I still tried to put some care into the selection, though!  
TG: so i assmue avatar an indiina jones rite  
TG: *assume  
GG: ...yes, ok?!  
TG: ohhhhh jane  
TG: ur so thuoghtufl  
TG: *thoughtful  
GG: Really, though, if he doesn’t talk to me soon, I’m going to assume the date’s off.  
TG: o wow  
TG: this means alot to you doesnt it  
GG: Yes, it really does. As much as I like Jake, this silent treatment’s giving me the idea that maybe we should have stayed friends.  
TG: well jaen no matter what u decide im still gonna be ur BFFSIE  
TG: u know that rite  
GG: Yes. :)  
TG: maybe jake needs some tiem around people on a regular bassis b4 dating someone  
TG: who knows  
TG: this could be like SRSLY INTIMIDATING SHIT for him even tho hes all mr adventure and fistingcuffs  
TG: *FISTICUFFS   
TG: lmfao fisting  
GG: Oh dear.  
TG: jus promise me ull at least talk to him once before you cancel your plans ok???  
GG: Of course! I want to give him the benefit of the doubt, I really do. I just wish he wasn’t so flighty!!!  
TG: come on crocker not all men are as determined and precise as di- stri  
TG: besides  
TG: thats one of the reasons u liek jake  
TG: *like  
GG: You’re right, Roxy. Thanks for your help.  
TG: netime janey  
TG: u kno how much i care about u  
TG: and if jake messes tihs up i will show u a good time in his place  


     You are not entirely sure how to take Lalonde’s...offer. Did Strider know something you didn’t? Maybe you were connecting too many dots in this case. Either way, best to play it safe – you’ve got enough issues churning in your heart.

GG: Why thank you! :B We’ll watch some wizard movies and who knows, maybe I’ll try one of your drinks!  
TG: HAWWYEAH  
TG: janey ur a wild one  
TG: i know it  
TG: if what ur plannin w/jake happens  
TG: i better get girl talk details  
GG: Oh geez. How much do you really want to know??  
TG: EVERYTIHNG  
TG: *EVERYTHING  
GG: ...everything?  
TG: i wanna playby play  
TG: a tome of details  
TG: wanna rite a book like mom did  
TG: bout ur EXPLIOTS  
TG: *exploits  
GG: I...don’t quite know if I can do that, Roxy!  
TG: jus for once i wanna say ive got fristhand info  
TG: *firsthand but i guess itd be second hand??  
TG: fuckin dirk thinks hes got the MONOPLOY on sex knowledge  
TG: *monopoly  
TG: damn tease sometimes really  


     You feel your face turning pretty red. Gosh, even your hands feel hot against your Crosbytop. You knew Strider and Lalonde were close, but you didn’t know they were _this_ close. You decide to ask, fingers shaking a little as you close your blue eyes and type blindly.

GG: Have you two ever...?  
TG: omg no janey no  
TG: hes just a proffesional perv  
GG: You mean he makes...pornography?!  
TG: well ya that  
TG: and he reads and studies the nasty like nobody ive ever known  
TG: guys fuckin fascinated w/fucking  
TG: thinks he knows so much  
TG: idk what his deal w/it is  
TG: jus wanna oneup him  
GG: If I tell you, you’re not going to give our names, right? That might be a little much for him.  
TG: ofcourse  
TG: i just want the info  
TG: ur CODEZ  
TG: ill keep it 2 myself but i just wanna be able to sit there next time i caht w/him and know ive got some info too u kno??  
GG: I understand. I’ll tell you, but you’re going to have to be Miss Zipperlips about it!!  
TG: YESSS  
TG: omg jane ilusm  
TG: zip zuip zip :I  
GG: Okay. I’m going to go try to talk to Jake now!  
TG: get em grl ;D  


\-- gutsyGumshoe [GG] ceased bothering tipsyGnostalgic [TG] \--

* * *

\-- gutsyGumshoe [GG] began bothering golgothasTerror [GT] –-

GG: Jake, I don’t know what’s happening on your end of the planet, but this is getting ridiculous!!!  
GG: I haven’t been able to talk to you in days, it says here you’re not idle, so WHAT’S GOING ON??  
GG: If you’re nervous about flying, or about what I said, tell me! I can’t take this silent treatment for much longer, and I need to know if I should still get these tickets!   
GG: Jake, we can’t make a distance relationship work if we don’t talk.   
GG: Please. :(  


     Your name is Jake English, and you’re quite certain you can’t maintain this charade anymore. You want so badly to type a quick reply to your darling Janey’s missive, but a man should never seem desperate, especially not when preparing to woo a woman and give her a night she’ll never forget.

You could certainly use your kerchief right now. You’re sweating at the thought, you can feel your pulse more alive throughout your whole body, and every thought in you is saying “to hell with these rules, I want to talk to my Janey!”

GT: So explain to me again why i cant answer her?  
TT: Simple law of attraction, English. People always want what is just out of their reach. Plus, a little mystery never hurt in terms of amorous pursuits. I’m sure you’ve seen enough romantic movies to know how that works.  
GT: Oh yes of course i have!  
TT: Don’t even start giving me citations, bro. I only need to know that you have a frame of reference here.  
GT: Youre sure she isnt getting angry?  
TT: I don’t see why she would be. A little absence makes the heart grow fonder. I’m positive: holding out will be worth it when she’s completely ready and willing when you see her face to face.  


     Reading the words “ready and willing” bring back memories of the chat you and Jane had a few days ago, when she first alerted you of the plan to deceive Dad Crocker into permitting a clandestine rendezvous. 

GT: Why of course id consent to a meeting with your father my dear! its only proper for me to speak to him and ask for his approval.  
GG: I don’t want you two to meet yet.  
GT: Good heavens why?  
GG: Jake, we’ve known each other for a long time and I like you a lot. A lot. I have for quite some time.  
GG: I don’t want our time together to be...censored.  
GT: *gropes for handkerchief.* Jane are you suggesting what i think youre suggesting?  
GG: If you’re willing, Jake, I’d like to try a few things.  
GT: Janey darling i refuse to treat you like some object! Youre someone i care about deeply and i want to give you what you deserve.  
GG: I really want this, okay??  
GT: *gulp.*  
GG: My dad means well, Jake, he really does! He’s constantly “protecting” me from so-called “assassination attempts,” so much so that I’ve never...  
GT: *dabs at brow a bit.* Never what?  
GG: I need some interaction with a man who ISN’T Dad.  
GT: This is really quite sudden.  
GG: It wouldn’t seem so sudden if every single signal didn’t fly over your head! :B Do you have any idea how long I’ve liked you???  
GT: Well you just mentioned quite a while and the feelings are mutual. If were being entirely frank ive thought about it too. I just want to make sure i dont accidentally take advantage of you or make you think thats all i want.  
GG: Jake, you are not taking advantage of me! Trust me!  
GT: Then my dear i will give you as much as you wish. *wink*  
GG: ;)  


     You rather like the idea of being able to give Miss Crocker anything and everything her heart (and other parts) desire, to hear her sweet voice melt into sighs of pleasure as her cerulean-cyan eyes dilate from arousal, but you’ll admit: your menagerie of romantic movies has left you feeling completely unprepared for the real thing. Thank goodness your good bro Strider has been there for you coaching you for the last few days. You genuinely thought he would never speak to you again.

TT: She’ll be so glad to see you and hear from you that she won’t be able to help herself.  
GT: If you say so strider but i cant quite shake this feeling that her distress isnt just from longing at this point.  
TT: This is why you needed an objective third party, man. You’ve got enough of your own feelings clouding your judgment.  
GT: And thats where your expertise comes in i suspect.  
TT: Absolutely. Tomorrow, she’ll be sending you information about your plane ticket, and by the weekend, you’ll be hand deep in Crocker boob.  
GT: Hey there buddy thats my girlfriend youre talking about!  
GT: Theres a line when it comes to how your best bro can talk about the lady in your life!  
TT: Ok, sorry Jake. That was too far.  
TT: Actually, I need to send some files around. I’ll talk to you later.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering golgothasTerror [GT] –-


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk gets the goods about Jake and Jane's status from AR.

     Your name is Dirk Strider, and while your plans generally go off without a hitch, you have grown quite impatient waiting to hit pay dirt. The last few days have left you restless. In keeping with your rule of “no abject lying,” you’ve upped your legendary infinite showers to three a day, and begun working on upgrades for AR. You’ve considered getting Li’l Seb involved if your mental clone can’t manage to generate the right kinds of responses. Sure, it’s a little insulting to your own abilities to manipulate, but at this point, you really only care about results. You’ll do a personal inventory afterwards.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] –-

TT: Hey, meat mannequin.  
TT: Hey, shades. How’s the orange hue been working out for you?  
TT: It suits me, seeing as how it’s your color, and I am you.  
TT: Anyone caught on yet?  
TT: Roxy’s gotten close once, so I told her you were in the shower. She said she didn’t feel like waiting that long and decided to tie a few more on in your “absence.”  
TT: Sometimes, I wonder how much she could actually do sober. She really is smarter than she lets on.  
TT: Your confusing feelings towards your ex-suitor aside, I have information for you.  


\-- timaeusTestified sent timaeusTestified the file attraction.txt –-

TT: He’s really not talking to her at all?  
TT: We’re on day four here. He thinks I’m some kind of relationship sage.  
TT: I almost feel bad for him.  
TT: Almost, until you remember that he’s so smitten with her that he’ll do literally anything to make this relationship perfect.  
TT: Thanks for that.  
TT: I’ve got something else, too. A file Jake sent me from his last conversation with Jane. Said he wanted my advice about what to do next.  
TT: I assume that’s where your advice not to speak to her came in?  
TT: Well, after you see this log, you’ll understand.  


\-- timaeusTestified sent timaeusTestified the file fromjanetojake.txt –-

TT: Oh HELL no.  
TT: I know, right?  
TT: So Crocker’s craving the cock.  
TT: A shot from English’s hidden magnum.  
TT: A personal invite to the pistol pony rodeo.  
TT: That wasn’t clever.  
TT: I’ll have you know that I am in fact programming upgrades for you in lieu of talking to Jake or Roxy. Don’t make me consider adding some upgrades to remove your snark.  
TT: It seems you’re aware that I am correct.  
TT: How certain are you that Jake will continue to listen to your advice?  
TT: He’s entirely convinced that his virginity depends on following my instructions to the letter.  
TT: Well done.  
TT: I would calculate that by tomorrow, Jane will have had enough of his silence and will, with anguish in her breast that Jake will never fondle, uninvite him to her home for a weekend bedroom getaway.  
TT: That is quite the tragedy.  
TT: I feel bad for Lady Jane.  
TT: If the fair Maid cancels the date, it’s her decision. Thankfully, she will have two good friends to assist her in her time of need.  
TT: Prithee, o Prince of Heart, what wisdom could you impart to a hurt and wounded teenaged girl with carnal yearnings that will yet again go unsatisfied?  
TT: O, thou synthetic, eclectic panes of pathetic, what I could do is show her exactly how to move on.  
TT: By the way, that message proves you’re not a clone of me. I am manifestly better at producing sick rhymes than you are.  
TT: Fuck off. I can still beat Squarewave.  
TT: Ensure that this plan goes off without a hitch, and I’ll make sure your rapping skills get an upgrade.  
TT: This is a terrible deal.  
TT: You’ll take it because you’re basically me, and I know I can’t stand being bested.  
TT: Fine.  
TT: Not that I can’t handle this myself, but I would fully anticipate Roxy trying to find a way to “haxx” me if she gets wise to my red herring once Jane inevitably informs her of what’s transpired.  
TT: Roxy’s too empathetic. She’ll end up drinking extra when Jane gets emotional. I wouldn’t worry about it.  
TT: Ok. Tomorrow afternoon, we’re doing this.  
TT: We are making this happen.  
TT: Good luck.  
TT: I won’t need it. This is pure, calculated inevitability.  


\-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT] –-

      You spend the rest of your afternoon drawing up schematics for possible new robots, briefly contemplate the concept of personhood in regards to artificial intelligence (AR’s assertions about being you have pushed you to philosophical inquiry on the subject), and resisting the urge to touch yourself. Of all the aspects of this plan, this has been the most personally taxing. You have ample opportunity to do so on a regular basis, and the previously mentioned additional showers have certainly opened up a temptation.

     At the end of the day, your thoughts drift to Jake again. As you lay in bed tense and restless with a gnawing feeling in your stomach, you imagine what he must be doing. He hasn’t asked AR once how you were feeling in any of the logs you’ve received. Maybe he’s been too busy thinking about the possibility of sex with a real, live human being. Not that you could blame him.

     The vivid imagery from earlier in the week returns to your mind, and this time, you allow yourself to be in Jane’s place. You visualize Jake’s hands, calloused and hot, sending jolts of excitement through your skin as steadies your hip with one hand, skimming your hip bone teasingly with his thumb, the other hand easily pinning your wrists, denying you any opportunity to touch yourself. You feel your legs wrap tighter around him as Jake thrusts harder, more erratically into you. You can feel your back arching up instinctively, in spite of your own desire for control – good thing you still have your glasses on to hide your very expressive eyes. Your mouth is making shapes and sounds you didn’t think it could; saliva drips from the left corner of your mouth as you start to scream out his name. His hard, uncircumcised, and surprisingly thick cock keeps hitting that same exact spot, the one that makes you want to claw at him and eat him alive, and you’re sure he can tell.

     You put up a pathetic, symbolic struggle to free your wrists from his grip, partially to feel him assertively keep you in place. He’s stronger than you thought he was, and his green eyes are wild as he stares into you, as if he somehow read your thoughts. He’s going to finish soon – you can hear more grunts and humming noises coming from him as he changes his pace again, and you want so badly to finish, you want some sense of release. Jake doesn’t break his penetrating, animalistic gaze and rasps at you, “Not yet, Dirk. Not yet...” 

     You’re not sure if his tone is pleading or demanding. Either way, his voice resonates with possessiveness, and the desire – no, the need – to be completely and utterly _his_ is enough to make you consider staying obedient to his wish. Even the way his lips form your name is enough to keep you at his mercy. Your body seems to have other ideas, though.

     You buck your hips again, attempting to find some way to get some friction between him and your dick, any ounce of self-restraint and self-respect out the window. All you want is have that blissful moment where everything goes white, your eyes shut and seem to roll back just a little bit, and you

     You snap out of your fantasy as you realize that you’ve unwittingly been pantomiming the desperate, needy gyrations in bed, your dick half-hard and your left hand dangerously close to making your fantasy’s endgame a reality. You shake your head quickly and sit up, muttering some obscenities under your breath. Even fantasy Jake knows how to leave you hanging with want. That thought returns you to an anger-tinged determination.

     No, you will not take the easy way out and jerk off. You will be satisfied once the plan is complete, and not sooner. You have good, good reasons.

     You opt for a cold shower. Just around 15 minutes – a new record yet again. You’re certain that you’ll never break it. Your warm bed and comfortable sheets against your newly icy skin makes sleep come remarkably easily.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane makes a decision about Jake, and has a shocking experience before going to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, see those tags for this piece? Some of them will start to come into effect starting...now. You have been warned.

     Your name is Jane Crocker, and it seems this evening you actually have some time to yourself for once! Dad doesn’t mean it, but he has this tendency to smother you because of his constant vigilance. Sure, a girl ought to feel safe at all times, but it seems like you can’t catch a break to sit back and think without finding a note, catching the scent of his pipes under your nostrils, or getting a supportive and protective hug. _Augh_.

     When you found out he was going out for an emergency trip to the store (how does he run out of Barbasol so quickly? Furthermore, why does a lack of it constitute an emergency? Whatever!), you have to admit you were pretty relieved and excited by the thought. You’ve been contemplating this plan with Jake for...a long time, and over the last few days, those details have only become increasingly clear to you.

     You take your laptop with you as you walk up to your bedroom, lock the door upon entering, and lay in bed to answer Roxy. She’s been bothering you about the Jake situation for a few minutes now. Since you didn’t give her an update about how your talk went, she’s assuming the worst. And she’s right.

\-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] –-

TG: jane  
TG: janey  
TG: JAAAAAANEEEEEEE  
TG: update on the englosh boy plz  
TG: *english  
TG: is he comin or not???  
GG: Sheesh! The way you’re typing, you’d think the world depended on this.  
TG: w/e  
TG: so wahts happenin  
GG: I tried contacting him one last time today when all of a sudden...  
TG: all of a sduden  
TG: *sudden  
GG: All of a sudden, I got no response, just like I have been for the last three days. :(  
GG: I knew I was asking too much of him, even if he is an “adventurous” type.  
TG: dont blame urself  
TG: hoenstly maybe u should think about puttin off dating him until he gets more used to bein around more socialzd ppl  
TG: do u still want my help w/the plane tix  
GG: Thanks, but no thanks. I can’t see why I’ll need them.  
TG: jane i cant stand to see you liek this  
TG: u sure u dont wanna try to savlage ur weekend  
TG: my offer stands  
GG: I feel so stupid, Roxy. I thought since we both liked each other for so long that he’d be completely okay with this. I guess I misunderstood. I’ve had enough “trip planning” for one lifetime.  
TG: ok :(  
TG: but one day soon  
TG: were gonna do something together i mean it  
GG: Are all men this clueless, or is it just the ones raised on islands full of horrifying beasts?  
TG: wish i could say it was the later  
TG: *latter  
TG: but except for dirk im pretty sure all guys are kidn of dumb  
TG: an dirks a diffrnt kinda... girl clueless  
GG: I’ve never once gotten the “clueless” vibe from him!  
TG: u kno what i mean jane  
GG: Honestly, I don’t! Even you said he’s determined and precise and...knowledgeable.  
TG: yah but  
GG: But what?  
TG: dont get ur hopes up  


     You’re tempted to show Roxy the logs where he’s said flattering things about you, just out of spite. You’re already upset and frustrated having this conversation, so why is she killing any other hope you have? Did you say you have hope about Dirk? No, you didn’t. You absolutely don’t. That’s ridiculous!

GG: Ok.  
TG: i gotta get goin cuz its really late here but  
TG: ILOVEYOU  
GG: :B  


\-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] –-

     Well, you guess it’s time to break the bad news – not that you’re even anticipating a response. You feel like your heart’s mangled in your stomach, a sickening heat pooling in your stomach. Your cheeks feel tight, like you’re about to be sick, but against all odds, you manage to click on golgothasTerror and write your message.

\-- gustyGumshoe [GG] began bothering golgothasTerror [GT] \--

GG: Jake, I’ve tried talking to you for the last three days.  
GG: Usually, I wouldn’t worry about it. I know you’ve got crazy fauna and that titanium android to worry about, but you haven’t been idle or offline any time I’ve tried to message you!  
GG: I think what I’m saying here is that maybe we rushed into this relationship too soon. This is really upsetting me, and I think I need to really think about if this kind of communication is what I want.  
GG: So, don’t worry about the trip. It’s not going to happen.  
GG: I’m...sorry. :(  


\-- gutsyGumshoe [GG] ceased bothering golgothasTerror [GT] –- 

     You close your laptop and place it delicately onto the floor. It’s been quite a day, and to be honest, you’d much rather try to blow off some steam and rest. Though you’ve already taken off your shoes, there’s still much to remove to get ready for bed. Haphazardly, you toss your socks to the floor near your laptop, gently guide your skirt along your legs and let it fall to the floor, remove your bra without taking off your shirt (every gal knows how to do that, right?), and remove your oval-shaped glasses, leaving them on your nightstand. Now you’re ready for bed.

     You attempt to make yourself comfortable, shifting around on your pillow as you pull your sheets around you to create the perfect balance between warm and cold. You close your eyes, exhausted (mentally, if not physically) and try not to be too selfish in your thoughts. You want to wonder if Jake’s read your messages. You want to think about how he’ll react, if anything at all, but all you’re thinking about right now is how your dreams will have to remain unrealized... _darn it._

     You let the fingers of your right hand skim lightly, tauntingly across your stomach, and the sensation – not quite a tickle, but not strong enough to be a stroke – makes your skin start to develop goosebumps. You inhale sharply, eyes closing as you let your hand dip lower to the elastic of your white, cotton panties. Your pinky finger runs delicately across the fabric, indirectly caressing your mound. The stimulation is enough to get warmth pooling to your cheeks and between your legs.

     Your hand runs a little lower, allowing your index and middle fingers to stroke at your clit, still hidden beneath a veil of flimsy fabric. It’s still enough to make you tremble, though, given how your imagination is running wild. You summon up an image of Jake slipping a hand under your shirt to fondle your breasts, your free hand mimicking the scene in your mind. He runs his thumb over a hardening nipple, tweaking it before moving his mouth closer to your breast to lick at it, using just the tip of his tongue, creating a kind of tantalizing shiver down your spine from anticipating the temperature difference.

     You bite your lip and suppress a moan, letting it come out instead as a hum. The indirect contact with your sex is insufficient now; you can feel the cotton starting to get wet under your touch. You shimmy your hips just slightly, enough that you can manage to get your undergarments down to your thighs. You still work softly, barely contacting your clit, circling around the sensitive flesh, pressing down only occasionally. The added pressure causes you to let out a low groan that you try to swallow back, but fail. You’re not sure how much longer you’re going to have by yourself, so you shift your head to put your mouth closer to your pillow as more ideas, more inspiration comes to you. 

     This time, you see light colored hair and unnatural colored eyes...pink? As you turn your head yet again, a stray hair falls to your skin, tickling your neck. You shiver a little, imagining instead that it’s Roxy’s lips against your neck, breathing into it gently before turning the next kiss into a bruising one. The hand at your breast moves instead to your hypersensitive neck, intensifying the sensation. The thought of such exquisite pain ushering in that kind of pleasure is enough to make your hand slip from your clit, lower, your middle finger threatening to enter you. You’re too hot, too wet, too frustrated and anxious – you push one finger inside yourself, curling up ever so slightly, and you let out needy, almost pathetic sounding sob.

     It’s been such a long time since you’ve gotten this far. Usually, you have to keep it quick, finishing yourself off in the shower without any penetration – you don’t want to imagine the kind of “supportive notes” you’d find from your dad if he caught you touching yourself. The sensation of being entered, the feeling of your slickened muscles pushing against anything is so foreign, so different, that it’s quite easy to imagine it’s a hand other than your own.

     You press a second finger inside of you. You move them in unison, first back and forth, as if trying to stretch yourself a little. Your body pushes back, and the pressure – the tension – is enough to encourage you to go deeper into yourself. The strokes are slow, tentative, teasing. You know what you like, even if it’s been a while since you’ve had it. Your eyes flicker open for a moment, watery from being overloaded, before you give yourself one determined _thrust_.

     Your eyes practically slam shut, your fingers now working seemingly independent of your conscious volition. That, plus the fact that you still have yourself covered with a sheet, makes it pretty easy to imagine it’s someone else.

     It’s not your hand anymore – it’s _his_. His fingers working deftly and expertly, caressing and exploiting every place that you’re sensitive. The pads of his fingers press close to your g spot, and they stop. He doesn’t withdraw, just waits. You start to whimper, close to the point of tears. You need this, you absolutely _need_ this with every fiber of your being.

     “Oh, God...” you manage of huff out, when suddenly you feel a thumb pressing against your clit, not enough to hurt, just enough to send a jolt through your body. You bite your lip and hold back a scream, and he takes it as an indication that now, finally, he should start massaging that ever-so-sensitive spot inside of you at the same time. 

     The double stimulation is almost enough to put you over the edge, but when he changes the motion from a massage to a full on thrust, over and over, that’s when you lose it. You feel every muscle in you clench up, and cover your mouth with your free hand that had been clutching to your pillow for dear life.

     You manage in a full-bodied but still muffled groan to call out his name as you begin to feel contraction after contraction, pushing you over the edge to a full-body orgasm, making you cry. “Dirk.”

     You awaken a few hours later, skin covered in a layer of sweat, face a bit puffy from the tears. You haven’t felt that kind of satisfaction in a while – in fact, your skin still tingles at the thought of it. That’s when it hits you, a rush of horror, anxiety, and confusion:

     You – Jane Crocker, Jake English’s girlfriend – just got yourself off by imagining Dirk Strider finger fucking you. And you _liked_ it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk gets a look at more of AR's dealings with Jake. After some scrutiny, he decides to push on with his plan. Jane makes him an offer he won't refuse.

     Your name is Dirk Strider, and you’ve got to admit, you’re feeling kind of proud of yourself. Or at least you would be, if not for the vague feeling of guilt boring a hole in your stomach. AR has sent you some rather unnerving chat logs from Jake for your perusal, and as much as you want to message him yourself, your pride won’t let you. You open the first file: “morningmessage.txt.”

\-- golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] –-

GT: Dirk im afraid i need your help. The situation with jane has become critical and i regret to inform you that your advice has backfired!  
TT: Wait, what?  
GT: Janes gone and canceled the date.  
TT: Are you sure you aren’t misinterpreting what she said?  
GT: She seems to think the worst im afraid. Said to forget about the trip.  
TT: Jake, I’m really sorry.  
GT: My first relationship and ive already buggered it to hell!  
TT: Maybe not. Have you tried pestering her?  
GT: Strider i cant bring myself to do that itll just sound like hollow hogwash to her at this point. Like the only thing im interested in is...  
TT: Is?  
GT: I think i need a towel. *grabs kerchief.*  
TT: You don’t want her to think you’re talking to her now that you know you won’t be seeing any action.  
GT: Precisely. I dont know what to do and to be honest im a little too petrified to follow your advice!  
TT: Why are you talking to me, then?  
GT: Oh kicking christ i dont know at this point its just that youre my best bro and i dont know who else to go to for this!  
TT: Have you tried getting some guidance from Roxy? I know she can be a handful with her non-stop alcohol-aided declarations of lust, but she’s Jane’s best friend.  
TT: Correction: they’re “BFFSIES 4EVERS.” Clear terminology is paramount.  
GT: Indeed it is but im afraid im too intimidated to talk to her. I know shell take whatever side most favors janes sentiments.  
TT: Good point. It’s hard to remain objective when there’s love involved. Even the calmest and most rational of people end up doing things you’d think were absolutely impossible.  


     You’re tempted to call this whole thing off and rush to your bro’s aid, to message Jane and convince her to give him another chance. You want to see Jake happy, to go back to your conversations of movies, technology, adventures, and maybe slip in a few subtle (and not-so-subtle) passes at him. Part of you even wants to swoop in and show him that this is proof positive that you two should be together, but you know he’s too wounded and vulnerable to reciprocate in any way that isn’t transient. Ultimately, you are left with a dilemma: reconcile Jake with Jane, thus admitting defeat and leaving you heartbroken, or continue your plan, thereby exacting revenge with a small possibility of you and Jake becoming a thing in the distant future, once Jane is completely dissatisfied with his social ineptitude, even if he can play it off as charming with his accent, mischievous smile, and fantastic ass.

     The choice seems obvious, and AR’s second text file encourages you. You open the second file marked “offer.txt,” and read with a critical gaze:

TT: Would you be willing to trust me one more time? I want to help fix this, since it’s my advice that got you into this steaming pile of horseshit.  
GT: I dont know strider i mean while i appreciate the offer i dont want her to get the wrong idea AGAIN.  
TT: There won’t be any more withholding involved. She’ll get a message from timaeusTestified in orange text, explaining the circumstances and offering some genuinely heartwarming but still obscenely effective advice. You two will be on speaking terms by the end of the weekend.  
GT: I feel like i lied to her. Do you think shell forgive me?  
TT: You didn’t lie, Jake. You simply didn’t say anything to her; a lie would mean you explicitly presented information you knew to be false.  
GT: Sometimes i forget philosophys your thing. If you truly believe it will work then by all means ill trust you. Thanks again chap.  
TT: No problem at all, Jake. Thank you.  
TT: I care about you a lot.  
GT: A lot more than i think i deserve given recent events.  
TT: Love is never something a person can deserve.  


     Yes, you’ll smooth things over with Jane. By the end of this weekend, you’ll have the situation smoother than the cheeks of a smuppet’s plush rump.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] –-

TT: Hey there, Crocker. I noticed you changed your mood on here. Mind if I inquire as to the impetus for the shift?  
GG: I’m afraid it looks like Jake and I will be taking a break.  


     You resist every urge to express joy, but can’t keep a smirk from sliding across your face.

TT: What happened?  
GG: I don’t know what I was thinking. I invited Jake over and he just stopped talking to me out of the blue!  
TT: Well, that’s most certainly suspicious, partially because usually anything with women and the shade blue is a surefire way to nab the man’s attention.  
GG: As much as I appreciate your jokes, I can’t bring myself to laugh at them today. Sorry. :(  
TT: He wasn’t idle on Pesterchum? Are you sure you weren’t just missing him while he was out on adventurous excursions?  
GG: I’m sure. He completely ignored me for days.  
GG: I told him that if we were going to make this kind of relationship work over such a ridiculous distance, that we needed to maintain good communication.  
TT: That’s sound and level-headed advice. So, of course, he went the complete opposite route?  
GG: It would certainly seem that way!  
TT: Any clue as to why, gumshoe?  
GG: None. All I know is I feel ashamed, stupid, and I have no idea what to do. :’(  
TT: It doesn’t sound like it’s anything you’ve done wrong, though. I wouldn't put the blame on yourself, were I in your position.  
GG: Roxy suggested similar. She said that maybe a very close personal relationship is too much for Jake right now, given that he’s lived in such isolation.  


     You wish _you_ would have thought of that rationale.

TT: Sounds feasible. Hell, judging from how antiquated his vocabulary is, who knows? His social skills could be downright anachronistic.   
TT: Maybe it’s a good idea to slow down and let him evolve a little.  
GG: I can’t help but feel responsible, though. A relationship’s supposed to be a combined effort.  
TT: Yes, and he completely abdicated his. You’re not at fault here, as much as your heart might want to tell you otherwise.  
GG: I had so much planned this weekend, and now it looks like it’s going to be a complete waste.  
TT: Jane, may I offer you some advice?  
GG: Of course. I’d be glad to hear it!  
TT: The best way to deal with these kinds of situations is indifference.  
GG: What do you mean?  
TT: Don’t let Jake see a change in your demeanor. You need to act like this kind of thing means nothing to you.  
GG: Why?  
TT: Being composed is an extremely attractive quality, as I’m sure you’re aware.  
GG: Yes.  
TT: So, making sure that you conduct yourself with a modicum of poise and calm will give you a significant advantage in any future dealings with English.  
TT: If I were you, I would still carry out whatever plans you had this weekend. Invite someone else over and have yourself a great time.  
TT: Did you buy the tickets for him?  
GG: No, I ended up backing out on the purchase, so I guess I do have some money left over.  
TT: See? That’s something you could turn into an opportunity.  


* * *

     Your name is Jane Crocker, and you’ve got to admit that Dirk’s got some very good points in this conversation. Sure, it’s okay to be sad, but you don’t have to flaunt it all over cyberspace! You quickly amend your mood on BettyBother.

TT: I see you’re back to smiling. It suits you.  
GG: :)  


     Second of all, he’s quite correct that calmness and resolve is appealing. It shows a kind of control, determination, and wisdom that...reminds you of last night, if you’re being completely honest with yourself. Jake sure might be sincere and honest, but he has no style or filter whatsoever. He’s attractive because he’s just so painfully uncool and unaware, whereas Strider is attractive because he always seems to be completely in charge.

     Yes, you’ll confess: Strider is quite the charismatic young man, if only for the way he carries himself. Why not take him up on his own advice?

GG: So, you really think I should try salvaging this weekend?  
TT: I don’t think you should salvage it, per se. “Salvage” implies Jake completely sunk it. I told you before, Jane – you’re a leader. No ship’s sinking on your watch.   
TT: You can do this. You can make this happen.  
GG: :B  
GG: Well then, would you like to come over this weekend?  
TT: Is your dad still going to be out of town?  
GG: Well...yes.  
TT: Well...  
TT: Yes.  
GG: :)  
GG: !!!  
TT: I’ll take care of the plane ticket; my bro left enough money for me to do basically anything and everything I wanted.  
GG: That’s really sweet of you, Strider!  
TT: Call me Dirk. I insist.  
GG: Well, DIRK, any suggestions as what I should do with that extra money?  
TT: I’d recommend something pertinent to whatever we’d end up doing this weekend, ideally. Your call.  
GG: So I guess I’ll be seeing you in a few days?  
TT: Yes ma’am.  
GG: Call me Jane. :B  
TT: As you wish, Jane.  
TT: Actually, I do have a suggestion.  
GG: I’d love to hear it!  
TT: I know this is going to sound completely unbelievable, but there’s something you can do that I’d love to experience firsthand.  


     You can feel your face starting to flush. 

GG: That would be...what, exactly?  
TT: I have never had a baked good in my life. I’d be more than happy to help with the process, but I’d like to try some, if that’s okay with you.  
GG: You’ve NEVER had a cake, a pie, NOTHING?  
TT: Nope. Can’t say I ever have. The only thing acceptable in the Strider house is orange Crush, for the most part.  
GG: That’s a situation that definitely needs amending, Dirk!   
TT: I’ll bring my Rainbow Dash apron.  
GG: :B  
TT: Well, since it seems that I need to prepare a suitcase, I’ll get back to you, ok?  
GG: Alright. See you later!  
TT: See you soon, Jane.  


\-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] \-- 

     Dirk is actually going to be here in a matter of days. You’re so excited that you just want to tell someone! You know Roxy would probably be a bit jealous, though, so you decide not to tell her just yet. As for Jake, well...why would you tell him anything? He’ll probably just ignore you. _Again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last of the Pesterlog-heavy chapters so far, so if you managed to get through this, congratulations! Now it's in person dialogue for the remaining completed parts (mostly.)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Strider goes to Washington.

      _Days in the future, but not many..._

     Your name is Dirk Strider and this is going to be almost too easy.

     You’ve packed a suitcase of about six different outfits – double as much as you’ll need for a weekend – and a Rainbow Dash apron. You did tell Jane before that the highest forms of irony have some form of sincerity; your deception needs to have some ounce of truth to it, too.

     You decide to dress in a slightly more...professional fashion for the occasion, opting for black dress pants, brown loafers, a crisp, long-sleeved white formal shirt, with an orange vest on top, made from a more knitted material. You’d like to think you can pull off the vaguely creamsicle-reminiscent look.

      _What?_ Maybe you just like the idea of having a reason to dress up for once. You’ve had your wardrobifier ready to go on a regular basis with literally no one to see. You roll up your long sleeves right to your elbows, and head out of your apartment, but not without one last message.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] \--

TT: I’ll be in Washington soon.  
GG: :)  
TT: I guess you’ll be picking me up, right?  
GG: Yes.  
TT: Does that mean what I think it means?  
GG: I beg your pardon?  
TT: You HAVE the car.  
GG: :B Yes. I “hass” the car!  
TT: You’re something else, Jane. See you in a few hours.  


\-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] \--

* * *

      _Hours in the future, but not many..._

     Your name is Jane Crocker, and you’re having a bit of a hard time concentrating on your driving. It might be due to the fact that you’re excited. It might be due to the fact that you really want to get home. It might also be due to the fact that Dirk Strider is in the passenger seat next to you and good _grief_ , he is quite the stunner in person. He’s just around 5’11”, with absolutely perfect skin, a smirk that made your heart stop, and his hands when he hugged you - yes, he actually _hugged_ you, turning down your handshake in favor of something more social - his hands against your back felt so very _perfect_. 

     Having him in such close proximity for an extended period of time has made it pretty hard to focus. Thank goodness the drive is very quick.

     “How was your flight?” You ask while waiting for the last light on the route to your house to change.

     “Nothin’ out of the ordinary,” he replies in a pleasant, controlled tone. Even with the obvious air of superiority, you’re able to detect his twang, and it’s downright adorable. “Thankfully, I didn’t get felt up by security. I doubt they could have afforded my rate.”

     You’re used to pranks, but word-based jokes are still pretty good in your book. You laugh, a little harder than you expected. It’s probably the accent that puts his punch lines over the top.

     “What would you like to do first?” you ask in a timbre slightly lower than your normal speaking voice, realizing too late it may have come out a little flirtatious. _Darn it!_ Thank goodness the light has finally changed – you continue driving with hopes of the frustration not showing in your face. Plus, keeping your eyes on the road is a good way to keep from looking any more intently at your guest.

     He replies without showing a hint of disturbance; his eyes and most of his face are completely hidden by his dark, triangular glasses. The corners of his mouth don’t even shift as your face reveals your minor embarrassment. He is the epitome of self-control as he responds with no hint of discerning any ulterior interpretations of your question, “Well, Heiress, we could start with baking.”

     “I asked you to call me Jane!” you tease.

     His voice softens. “I apologize, Jane. Like I said online, this is entirely your weekend. I’d be more than happy to do whatever comes to mind for you.”

      _Oh boy. He’s laying it on really thick._ He has no idea what buttons he’s pushing, does he? 

     “I’ve never been here before, Jane. You’re the leader-”

     “It’s me,” you chime in, completing the meme.

     “Exactly.” You can hear the smile in his voice.

     “Oh! We’re here!” You say, turning into the garage at your house, parking the car carefully. Dad always stressed safety in your driving lessons. You wonder what he’d have to say about you being a little flustered on the count of your passenger. Well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

     You begin to open the driver’s side door when you feel a hand on your right wrist. “Jane,” Dirk says to you, softly, a little low.

     He’s the first man besides your dad have to any kind of physical contact with you besides a handshake. You can feel yourself freeze, your blood running much too cold and your chest feeling much too hot. You know you shouldn’t be this flustered – he’s not Jake, but he’s still—

     “Yes?” you stammer, attempting to end this...situation before it begins.

     “Allow me.” You watch as he leaves the vehicle, walking around the front of the car from the passenger side to your door, opening it...for you. You are quite surprised by the old-fashioned gesture, though it is very endearing. “After you, Jane,” he says. You cautiously exit the vehicle, thankful that there’s more distance between the two of you. Any more time in that cramped car and you think your face might have started to turn a little red. 

     He walks ahead of you to the door leading inside the house from the garage, holding open that door as well, never changing his stoic expression. You start to wonder: is this simply a difference in your upbringings? Dirk always described his older bro as a more... _progressive_ type, you guess you could say, so no, that didn’t make sense. You guess he’s trying to be polite, but this level of politeness is out of place for friends, and you _know_ it. 

     Walking through the door before him, you take a brief moment to give him the once-over. He is...ridiculously well-dressed, pointy glasses or not. The shade of orange looks lovely on him, you note, and the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt...well, you’ll try not to think _too much_ about how nice his arms look, and how it kind of makes you curious to what the rest of him looks like. You wonder how Jake would look all cleaned up and formal for a moment, and it causes a little pang in your heart. You’re sure it would have been a great plus to meeting him in person finally.

      Speaking of which, why _is_ Dirk dressed so nicely? You know this is out of character for him, at least from what you can recall. However, this is only your first time meeting in person – maybe the Striders go formal in public. Either way, you certainly feel a little undressed around him for it. 

     Did you say undressed? You meant underdressed. 

     You feel _underdressed_ , having opted to pick him up in your normal t-shirt and skirt ensemble. Though you _did_ make sure to shave your legs this morning. 

     You’re starting to feel a little ashamed of yourself for how...out of character this is for you. You’ve been so frustrated, though – Dad practically smothering you, Jake completely ignoring you, you knowing that a prime opportunity for something you’ve been longing after is ruined – and Dirk is a welcome change to all that. Thankfully, he doesn’t know of all these circumstances coalescing, creating a situation in which you _cannot stop looking at him_.

     He stops walking as soon as the door closes behind the two of you. He turns to face you, giving a very intrigued glance, as if trying to read your thoughts. His gaze – even though you can’t see his eyes – is unnerving.

“Is something wrong, Jane?” he asks in a voice that positively disarms you. It’s sweet, unassuming, and he says your name with a subtle, but definite additional emphasis, as if he wants, _needs_ you to know he’s directing his attention to you. You look down a little as you respond, not entirely sure why he’s making you feel so...cornered.

     “No?” you squeak. “Not...really?”

     “Too long of a drive, maybe? It _is_ really late...” He sounds concerned, you know he is, but you can’t quite tell him why you’re feeling so dazed. You’re pretty sure it would be an uncomfortable conversation.

     “Y-yeah,” you relent, stammering. You realize you aren’t technically lying; any longer in that car with him and you think you might have melted. “I’m just glad to get some air and some space.”

     “I need to get my things out of the back of the car. You should probably get something cold to drink. I’ll be right back.”

     He’s right. You should get a drink. A really, _really cold_ drink. Followed by a trip to the couch. 

     ...You catch yourself taking a peek at his backside as he walks back to the garage before you get a glass.


	9. Chapter 9

      Your name is Dirk Strider and your plan is going off without a hitch. You gotta admit, you’re smirking to yourself as you head back to the car to get your luggage. Jane’s certainly a perceptive girl, but you’re just as good as she is. You might even say you’re evenly matched in the deduction and inference departments. All that aside, there’s a part of you that will genuinely enjoy her company; living with such an absent bro and being locked up in your room with robots makes having a person with you a rare luxury.

      You bring your efficiently-packed suitcase into the house with you as you look for where Jane went. You manage to find the living room and see her relaxed on the couch with an empty, perspiring glass. Whatever was in there, she finished off pretty quickly. _Gee, you wonder why she did that._

“Hey, Jane,” you offer. “Where exactly should I put this?” You’re holding the suitcase in your dominant hand, but it still takes her a second to register what you’re asking.

      Her posture snaps to attention, blue eyes behind her glasses widening to look at you. It’s as if you broke a trance or something – maybe she was half-asleep. _Or you know she’s ridiculously flustered and probably only just now had the chance to relax since you weren’t around._

“Oh! There’s a guest room upstairs – I’ll help you find it.”

      You feel your mouth scrunch up, uncertain. “You sure you wanna get up, Jane?” You make sure to use her name again – she needs to have the certainty, subconscious though it may be, that your attention is entirely on her. You notice that she starts to look a little perturbed as she straightens up more, fixing her hair and preparing to get up. Your let your voice fall back into a more playful tone. “I’m sure I can find it. I assume it’s the room that doesn’t smell like pipes and isn’t full of Crockercorp stuff, right?”

      She smiles and laughs a little under her breath as she rises from the couch. “Yes,” she says with a pleasant cadence, “but you’re still my guest. Come on.” With that, you follow her lead as she languidly extricates herself from the comfortable-looking (but drab) couch, and walks up the flight of stairs leading to the bedrooms. You notice that her father’s room has its door open – you can smell the paternal scents of pipes and shaving cream even from the top of the stairs. The bathroom door is slightly ajar, but Jane’s room is shut tight.

      You take a moment as you’re following to look at her – really, really look at her. One of the reasons the idea of Jake being with Jane bothered you so much (besides the obvious reasons) was that they looked so _similar._ They have the same short, jet-black hair and similarly colored light eyes (though hers, as you can quite tell, are closer to cyan than emerald.) Were it not for Jane’s...obviously feminine build, you think she’d make quite a convincing Jake, if you’re being honest with yourself. Of course, she’s also a little shorter; she reminds you a little of a pixie, but she is obviously less fragile than the mythical creatures.

      She stops at the first room on the left and gestures to it. “You can put your suitcase here, Dirk.” You nod in gratitude, and notice that she said your name a bit...tremulously, as if she felt like she shouldn’t have been using something so intimate, albeit benign in reality. _She’s caught on to what you’ve been doing. Good._

      You decide to forego actually setting up your things, instead placing your suitcase just inside of the room before turning again to your hostess. You ask her playfully, but with just enough distance in your voice, “What now?”

 

* * *

       Your name is Jane Crocker, and you feeling much more confident and secure than you were about a half hour ago, and that’s a good feeling! You and your guest have decided to start your weekend with some baking, and you can already tell that Dirk doesn’t really know what to do in a kitchen, so he’ll have to follow your lead for the most part. He couldn’t have been serious about living off of Orange Crush, could he?

      When you see that he is, in fact, wearing a Rainbow Dash apron, your speculations are confirmed. “Dirk, you don’t spend much time in a kitchen, do you?”

      “What would make you assume that?” he replies, a bit nonplussed. He’s standing, meticulously washed hands on the counter, a small distance from you, still wearing those _ridiculous shades_. The contrast between his eyewear and his apron is pretty funny to you, actually! His mouth tightens to a bit of a smirk with his question, and you know you’re safe making an endearing jab at his ineptitude. You place your hands on your hips, ruffling the red fabric of your Crockercorp apron as you tighten your grip, striking a mockingly serious pose.

      “First, that apron doesn’t cover everything it needs to cover, so I’m guessing you haven’t used it before, unless you thought that an apron was simply style and no substance.”

      He smiles, actually _smiles_ at you, instead of giving the usual smirk or vague, barely perceptible facial tic. “Okay, you caught me.” You think he might...actually be impressed!

      “Did you get that just for...irony’s sake?”

      “I unironically _love_ this pony,” he says with a flatter affectation than you would have anticipated from that kind of sentence.

      “You’re not kidding, are you?”

      “I’m about as serious as a bypass patient’s post-surgery heart attack.”

      “We probably shouldn’t talk about heart attacks before baking,” you reply, laughing a little.

      “So, what are we making?”

      “I was thinking we could make Red Velvet Cake. It’s simple enough, but we have to make frosting, too, so it’ll be one part each of us can be in charge of.”

      “I assume I get the easier part, for reasons you’ve correctly concluded.” He smiles again, not as broadly and without showing any teeth, but you can see it’s there, and you can’t help but give a little smile back.

      “Yes,” you reply teasingly, working up the nerve to get closer to him. “You get to deal with the frosting. Requires more arm work too, and I know you can do that.”

      Did you just say that? _Shoot._ You totally just said that outloud. You can feel your heart drop to your stomach as your breath feels like it stops. He’s going to be completely freaked out, he’s going to back off, he’s going to call you out on it and

      “Not a problem, Jane. Just tell me what we need.”

      You exhale! That could have been really bad. You admit that the prospect of having a good looking, friendly, and intelligent male in the house _without supervision right after Jake went AWOL on you_ is a little more intoxicating than you anticipated, but you didn’t think Dirk would manage to be this charming. “Girl clueless,” Roxy? Really? _Please._


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane and Dirk make a cake! Or, more accurately, Jane makes a cake, and Dirk tires to make amends for his ineptitude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was no way I couldn't let Jane outdo Dirk in something. (Plus, it's kind of my headcanon that Dirk would be interested in baking because of how much precision goes into it, but because he's never had to, he really doesn't get it. So...there's that.)

      Your name is Dirk Strider, and you never realized how technical baking really gets. Sure, you’re quite precise when it comes to...everything, but this is something outside of your realm of experience. Instead of making a fool of yourself (and thus destroying your aloof and charismatic guy façade – wait, did you say façade? No, this is really you), you watch Jane as she works for a few minutes. You don’t want to start making the frosting for a few minutes, anyway. Plus, as she told you, “The butter and cream cheese should probably be at room temperature instead of fresh out of the fridge.” You know from the tone of her voice that she was trying not to sound so authoritative on the baking subject; she knows exactly what she’s doing in here.

      Her method is quite scientific, employing only the most precise forms of measurement, and measuring everything no less than two times to ensure accuracy. She even stoops at times, getting her blue eyes to countertop level, just to make sure the liquid measurements are exactly what they need to be. What’s noteworthy to you most, however, is how _happy_ she looks while doing it. You know that you’re a bit gruff and icy when in your element (it’s one of the reasons you created the auto-responder, in fact), but she is positively _chipper_ in the process. It’s practically second nature to her, so much so that she even _encourages_ conversation.

      “How are you doing over there, Dirk?” she says, almost sing-song.

      You feel honestly disarmed. You take a moment to make sure your voice doesn’t betray your slacking confidence. You haven’t done _anything_. “Waiting for this cheese and butter to hit room temperature, like you said, Jane.”

      “It should be there at this point! Just grab a bowl and mix those two together, then add the vanilla and confectioner’s sugar.”

      “How much sugar again?”

      “Two and a half cups should be perfect,” she chirps, all without flinching her focus from exactingly measuring what you can tell from the scent is cocoa. She hasn’t spilled anything on herself, and there’s not a grain of flour, cocoa, or a drop of buttermilk anywhere besides where it should be.  Forget science – she’s transcended to _art_ with this. You just hope you don’t completely screw this up.

      You take another look at her, and realize that while you might not have the same finesse as she does, the act itself is pretty mechanical, not unlike when you build your robots. Knives are pretty akin to swords, so, you quickly and cleanly cut the butter and cream cheese into squares for easier mixing, then begin work the two together with a spoon. Just as you’re about to add the sugar, you hear Jane call to you from her part of the kitchen: “Dirk, do you need the sugar?”

      “There’s some right here,” you reply.

      “That’s granulated sugar. You want confectioner’s sugar,” she replies without looking over at you. This lady knows her realm like the back of her hand.

      Isn’t granulated sugar what confectioner’s use? “There’s a difference?”

      “Yes. Confectioner’s sugar is powder-like! I just noticed I still have it over here in the cabinet.”

      “Sorry about that, Jane.”

      “It’s not a problem! Even if you already put some sugar in there, we can fix it.”

      You leave the spoon in the bowl and walk over to where Jane has already managed to make what looks like an amazing batter. It’s a deep shade of red, smells like cocoa and butter, and you’re honestly curious about what it tastes like. This is turning out to be a lot more amusing than you thought it would be.

      You and Jane both reach to the same place at once – she for the remainder of her flour/cocoa mix, you for the sugar in the cabinet – and you accidentally knock Jane’s entire dry mix into her bowl.

      You hurriedly apologize in a hushed tone, feeling genuinely awful for interrupting her and ruining her work. “Oh geez, Jane, I’m so sor-”

      She looks up at you, big blue eyes full of optimism. “Nothing to apologize for, Dirk. Sure, it’ll be a little harder to mix by hand, but nothing’s been ruined. Let’s just hope my arm doesn’t cramp!”

      ...You sense an opportunity.

      You move yourself behind her, placing the powdered sugar back on the counter. You lower your head just enough to skim her neck as you bring your arms, ever so slowly, around her own, placing your left hand upon hers.

      You practically _purr_ to her, “Why don’t you let me help,” and reach for the spoon from her right hand, not really waiting for a response. You hear her gulp back ever so slightly, and you know you’re back in charge again, even if this is her home turf, metaphorically and literally.

      She looks at your hands, paying close attention. You’re intentionally taking this stirring business very slowly, making up for it with very determined, pressured strokes. Jane eventually breaks the silence hanging between the two of you: “Y-y-you’re left hand-ed.”

      “Yes, although if I ever needed to, I can work with my right as well.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cake is a lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moment you've all been waiting for; consider tags for "foodplay," "powerplay," and "maledom" in effect.
> 
> Also, feel free to count how many phallic jokes/suggestions there are between this chapter and the previous one. I couldn't resist.

      Your name is Jane Crocker and your face is turning completely red - redder than the batter you two are mixing, you bet. You can feel Dirk completely pressed against your back, his arms around you, and his face is so close to your neck you can feel his breath tickle you as he speaks. Speaking of which, his _voice_ is low and hotter than the oven you need to deal with soon. _Oh geez._

You’re tempted to stop this right now, to take charge of this and let him go and deal with the frosting so you can _calm down and stop wondering how good his breath would feel on other parts of you_ , but the sound of his voice and his warmth is _too addicting_ to pull yourself away. You take a deep breath, blaming your own warmth on the kitchen, and convince yourself to enjoy it – which doesn’t take too much effort, seeing as how you _want to enjoy this._

      “How does this look to you, Jane?” he says, drawl ringing clearly into your ear.

      You take a look at the mix before you and give an honest assessment: “It should definitely be thicker than this before it’s ready for the next step.”

      “Well then, tell me when it’s thick enough for you,” he replies slowly, voice still low, but a touch playful. _He’s gotta know what he just said. There’s no way he doesn’t know. Is it just you? Oh gosh, it’s probably just you-_

You wait a few more seconds and focus on the batter. “That’s...perfect,” you exclaim. “You can stop. If you could grab those pans, that’d be great.”

      He complies, and as loathe as you are to admit it, you miss his touch against your skin. Thankfully, you’re pretty good at pouring batter into pans without any mess, even if you go quickly – one of the very important techniques Dad helped you master. You decide once that’s taken care of to grab the sugar Dirk needed and to scamper to the bowl of butter of cream cheese, quickly adding the sugar by sight and making what will go down in history as the quickest frosting on the planet.

      He comes up behind you again as you’re working, this time opting not to press against you, making your skin tingle in anticipation. “That looks great, Jane,” he replies. “However...I have a question.”

      “Yes?” you manage to spit out, quickly.

      “That’s supposed to have vanilla in it, right? I don’t want to doubt the master here, but I thought your recipe called for it.”

      “Oh,” you reply, relieved. “I actually use almond extract instead. I’m not a big fan of vanilla. I already added it in there.”

      “The pans are in the oven, too.”

      “Thank you.”

      “So, what now? Wait in the sweltering kitchen?”

      You notice something wrong with Dirk’s face as you turn around to him. He’s got some of the red, chocolate batter on the corner of his mouth. It must have happened when he took the spoon out of the bowl so you could pour it.

      “Dirk, you’ve got something there...” With near-instinctive speed, you reach up to his face and try to wipe some of it off.

      He stiffens in stature, but seems grateful. In fact, he places a hand on your shoulder, almost encouraging the new level of closeness between the two of you. He lowers his head to you, just enough to give you easier access to his mouth.

      “Did you get all of it?” he asks, and there’s something in his voice that you can’t quite place that makes it sound more like a challenge than a question. You look at him carefully, trying to find his eyes – or at least his eyebrows to give you some indication of what he’s thinking – then look again at his mouth. There’s still a smidge of something on the left corner, yes, but you’re too focused on his lips. They are beautiful, and look soft and inviting as his lips are still slightly parted. You let yourself get a little closer to “look,” the air around the two of you electric, thick, tense.

      You feel his grip on your shoulder tighten subtly, and that’s the last piece of evidence you need to tell you no _,_ this _isn’t_ one-sided _,_ you’re _not_ losing your mind _, you’re not imagining that this has felt like something more all day._ You take your right hand and place it to his face, holding him still, and _lick_ the batter off of his face.

      His breath hitches in shock, but before you can even think about saying something, his hand is weaving itself into your hair, guiding your face up to his, his lips completely against yours, the speed and _force_ of contact in complete contrast to the softness of his lips and tenderness of the kiss.

      As he breaks the kiss, all too soon, you look up at him again, trying desperately to glean _anything_ from his face. He gives you one cue: he licks his lips, as if he’s getting warm, too warm. You drape your arms around his neck and kiss him, running the tip of your tongue _just barely_ across his lips, both as a “service,” you rationalize, and as a request.

* * *

      You decide to tease her a little bit. You feel her tongue against your lips, and instead of parting them, you take the invitation to mean you can be a bit more aggressive. You tease her with small, soft kisses, enjoying the sensation of touching another person, even if it isn’t Jake. You take her bottom lip between yours, sucking it _just enough_ to feel her shake as you bring your free hand to rest on her side, rubbing encouragingly at her hip. You bite down softly, and you swear you can hear a bit of a squeaky sound come from her throat. Finally, you part your lips, allowing her entry, and you feel her shift her weight onto you, her breasts pressing against you, hands stroking at the back of your head.

      You know that you are not interested in women. You know that, strictly speaking, you are not _attracted_ to women either. The situation, however, is so _wrong_ , so _inappropriate,_ so positively twisted that something dark in you enjoys it. You enjoy Jane’s touch, the smell of her skin, the taste of her mixed vaguely with sugar and chocolate from the batter on her tongue. Most of all, there’s something about the violation of so many boundaries – her relationship, and even to an extent your own orientation – that gets you hot. Your ability to push her buttons to get this result, the power and control you know you have (even if she _doesn’t_ know), added to your own self-imposed celibacy in preparation has turned you on beyond belief. You want to see how much power you actually have, now that you can tell she wants you.

      “I have an idea,” you whisper into her ear before planting small, delicate kisses against her neck. She sighs, tightening her grip and pulling your hair, and you relish the fact that you have such an effect on her. Eventually, she works up a response: “Do it. Just –- go -- yes.”

      You know you’re strong enough – you just hope she doesn’t freak out too much. You take both of your hands and lift her up, allowing her to wrap her legs around your waist as you give her a deep, probing, passionate kiss on the mouth. As you break the kiss, you look around the kitchen again for that spot – near the end of the counter where the frosting is, far enough from the oven, and clean enough. Finally eyeing it, you carry her, allowing her to kiss and nip at your neck as you sit her on the counter, making up for the difference in height, lining you up more suggestively.

      She tightens her lock around your waist, trying to pull you even closer, dragging blunt nails against your still clothed back. She suddenly seems to realize you are both still in aprons, and she quickly starts to undo all of the strings of yours. You mimic the motions until both of you are “stripped,” back down to your normal clothing, throwing the aprons haphazardly across the room.

      You want to tease her a little more; the desperation and passion in her movements seem so unconscious and out of character for her that you _know_ she wouldn’t do this were it not for you. You know you have enough power to make her _choose_ to betray her boyfriend and violate her own father’s trust – in the place most important in her household. You are a sick, sick man, you know, but that fact doesn’t change that doing all of this has made your pants feel tighter.

      You realize that the frosting bowl is within reach of your right hand. You dip your index and middle fingers in and bring it close to Jane’s face, hoping to mimic what she did to you earlier, when days upon days of preparation finally came to fruition. You trace her lips with your thumb as you speak, voice heavy with lust: “I have some ideas involving these.”

      “I have a better one,” she says, faux-innocently, and she takes both of your sticky, sweet, coated fingers into her mouth. If she could see your eyes, she would have seen them widen in shock.

      She licks the pads of your fingers, swirling her tongue around the tips as she swallows back the sugary, white icing. She tightens her mouth’s hold onto your digits, adding hot, wet pressure to them as she sucks, slowly taking the length past each section of your fingers, finally touching the knuckles in your _hand._

You feel her tongue against the palm side of your fingers, and you don’t _care_ if she’s female – she’s managed to make you _groan_. The lavish attention she’s giving to your fingers is making your blood pump, and all you keep wondering is how good her mouth would feel on another particular appendage.

      Against every desire you have, you withdraw your fingers, kissing her forcibly as your hand starts to fondle at her breast. You feel her moan in your mouth, and you relish it, breaking the kiss to murmur to her again.

      “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me, Jane?”

      “I,” she huffs, “have an inkling...”

      You slip your hand under her shirt, completely disregarding her bra, and pinch at her nipple, earing you a quick, choked mewl. “What do you think Jake would say if he saw you like this?”

      You wonder for a moment if you’re pushing her too hard with your words, but when you hear her _moan_ , and feel her grind against you, you realize she’s _liking_ what you’re telling her. “Well, Jane?”

      “I...I don’t care right now,” she pants, and the thrill of knowing she’s almost entirely undone is enough to make you want to seal the deal right then and there.

      “You’re good with your mouth, you know. Do you like my fingers?” She tries to make a coherent reply, but it only comes out as half-words and noises as you move your right hand back to her hip to hold her still while your _left_ hand snakes under her skirt, delicately teasing the skin at her thigh. “Answer me: do you like my fingers?”

      “Y-yes,” she replies weakly.

      “Yes who?”

      “Yes, Dirk,” she manages, and you let out a low “mmm,” savoring the expression on her face as she struggles to keep her eyes open and her legs from shaking.

      “Yes Dirk, _what_ , Jane?” you say artificially sweetly. You’re going to make her say it. You want to hear her admit in no uncertain terms that she doesn’t give a fuck about Jake, and that she wants _you_.

      “Yes, Dirk, I like your fingers in my mouth,” she relents, and you smirk, kneading at her thigh, inching closer to her heat. She shudders, and you whisper to her, “Would you like them somewhere else now?”

      “Oh God,” she manages, breathing heavy, licking her lips, biting them, trying to think straight. “Oh, God...”

      “Well,” you say, still tauntingly sweet as your fingers brush against cotton. “What’s on your mind, Jane?” You turn your head to the oven, noticing that _no,_ she forgot to turn it on, and you conveniently left it off. “We’ve got all the time in the world right now.”

      “Is—is the ov-”

      “You left it off,” you reply, cutting her off, and you relish in the sound of a full-fledged moan from her. Everything about this is wrong, and that fact makes you want to do it all the more. And from her reaction, it seems to be doing the same to Jane.

      “Oh God. Yes, I want them, yes, oh God I want them,” she rattles off, as if completely unaware of the shaking in her voice, the blush in her face, the fact that from even a slight touch against her panties you can tell she’s wet.

      “I can do that for you if you want.”

      “ _Please_ , Dirk,” she exhales, and the rush from the amount of sheer control you have makes you feel practically _high_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is as much as I have finished so far. Don't worry -- there is a lot more.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, yes; consider it the second part of chapter 11, I guess.

 

      Jane slips off her shoes and socks, as if she feels strange wearing them knowing what’s about to happen. You tug at the elastic, sliding her white panties completely off to join her socks on the floor. She takes a deep breath, anticipating what’s going to come next, and you take a good, long look at her.

      She looks so pliant, so willing; her eyes are almost completely dilated, so much so you can barely discern their actual blue shade. Her lips are still parted, sighing just a bit as if trying to get some air. Even her hair looks frizzy and disheveled – a sure sign of what’s been happening. She wants this, you know, but it’s not for the same reasons _you_ like it or want it.

      “Jane,” you say, with no playful inflection or seductive tone to your voice. “Tell me to stop, and I will, okay?”

      She nods, a bit exaggeratedly – you assume to make sure you’re aware it’s an actual nod. Maybe it’s your conscience somehow kicking in through this haze of arousal. Maybe you just need the extra proof that she wants this. You care about her, of course, but delving this deep into unsure waters – no matter how confident you are that you can do this – is proving to wake up some feelings you weren’t entirely aware of.

      You want Jane to be safe. Most of all, you want her to be happy, no matter what happens after this.

      You plant a soft, fleeting kiss on her mouth, and keep your eyes open as you penetrate her, intentionally slow, with the index finger of your left hand. Her eyes open quickly, only to seemingly roll right back shut. As you withdraw to thrust again with more speed, you can feel her juices drip from your finger onto her thigh. Your intuition was right; she didn’t need any more teasing.

* * *

      You clutch Dirk’s hip for dear life as he curls his finger inside of you, just barely touching that one spot inside of you. Your whole body feels hot, _too hot_ , and you can feel every single time your body clenches up and squeezes around him. You look up at him, still in a haze, and you realize his glasses keep the two of you from having any kind of actual intimacy, it seems. The lack of eye contact makes you feel even more helpless to his hand, and makes you crave having the rest of him closer to make up for it.

      You try to buck up into his thrusts, and you’re met with a right hand pinning you in place. He moves closer to your face and practically _growls,_ “No. Don’t move.”

      Not a question, not a suggestion, not a request – a demand. You feel a sudden spark go down your spine, compelling you to stay put, making your skin develop goosebumps. You exhale deeply, letting him do as he will, and you practically scream out when he slips a second finger inside of you, stretching you just enough to feel _real_.

      Your hands become frantic, shaky. Needily, you grab at his sides, pulling him closer, moaning incoherently. You open your eyes, half-lidded, and see a smirk on his face.

      “What’s wrong, Heiress? Do you want something?”

      “Harder, please...” you manage, and he complies, thrusting his fingers inside of you with enough force to _sting_ , just enough that you enjoy the pain with the pleasure he’s giving you.

      He speeds up, and you can’t resist. You grunt as you give him a smack to the same backside you had been eyeing up on the sly all day. He seems startled, giving a sharp inhale, but he doesn’t _dislike_ it, as he continues to finger fuck you, constant and confidently.

      Your legs keep wanting to clench up – you can tell you’re very close. So does he, apparently – he starts _gently,_ softly running his thumb around the sensitive skin near your clit, and it’s too much, too real, exceeding any of your late night fantasies, your shameful entertainments of him doing exactly this to you. You know you’re going to come if he keeps this up.

      You smack his ass again, wrapping the rest of your right leg around his to keep him from stopping. You feel his hand move from your hip to your neck, lightly running over the delicate skin with his index finger. You shudder, letting out a unbeckoned whimper as he whispers, breath hot against your ear, “Do you want to come, Jane?”

      You sigh and moan again, almost unable to find words.

      “Do you? I could stop and leave you like this. I could pull my fingers out of you and walk away.”  
  


      “No, d-don’t--”

      “Come on. I want to hear you say it.”

      “I don’t want you to stop...”

      “Close. That’s not what I want.”

      “I want you...I want you to make me come.”

      “Still forgetting something, Jane,” he says as he begins to slow down. “You’d think you’d been raised better than this.”

      “I want you to make me come, _please_ ,” you reply, needy, desperate.

      He murmurs, voice laced with honey and venom, “ _Good girl.”_

He picks up the speed, hitting that spot inside of you persistently. He curls his fingers once more, and you feel yourself come undone, spasms radiating through your torso as you clutch Dirk’s lower back. The whole world seems to go white, and you vaguely feel his right hand on your head, cradling you, keeping you safe from harm.

      Moments later, too long and over all too soon, you open your eyes as your hands fall slack against the front of Dirk’s pants. You can feel that he’s hard, and after what he did for you, you feel compelled to return the act. You move your hands slowly along his pants, fingers pressing against his erection as you inch your way up to his belt buckle.

      “I don’t entirely know what to do,” you tell him, noticing his lip is shaking, “but I’m willing to follow your lead for this.”

      You remove his belt and look at him again, waiting for him to give a response.

 


	13. Chapter 13

      You decide to carry Jane upstairs to your guest room, leaving her shoes, socks, and underwear on the kitchen floor. She’s a little sweaty, flushed, and her hair is everywhere; “vulnerable” is the first word that springs to your mind looking at her, if you weren’t turned on and certain that her look is the result of what _you_ just did to her and not something else. She keeps her arms around your neck, and even in her hazy state, she manages to stroke at your hair. It’s enough to remove any second thoughts.

      The door of your room in Jane’s house is still partially open. You kick the door just slightly, careful not to scuff it, and bring Jane in, lightly lowering her to her back to her feet. As her soles slowly make full contact with the drab-colored carpet, she moves to bring her mouth to yours, and its sentimentality strikes you. The kiss is passionate but only with the lips, forceful but ended gently, determined but uncertain. When her hands come to the sides of your face, you find yourself grabbing at the hem of her shirt, wanting to tug it off. You hope to do it, but before you are able to slip off her top, she shifts and finds herself on her knees in front of you, hands skimming the front of your pants. Any “plans” you had fall out of your mind altogether.

      She palms at the bulge in your slacks, running her hand down the maddeningly fabric-covered length. In spite of yourself, you inhale sharply, making an audible hissing noise. You hear Jane hum a little, content with herself as her fingers reach to the waist of your pants. You swallow, a little harder than you anticipated, and look down at her. Jane’s still wearing her oval-shaped glasses, and her bright, bespectacled eyes remind you of Jake. He’d be heartbroken if he saw her like this with you, but right now, that’s not what you care about.

      You care about what’s about to happen. You care about finally getting off. You care about Jane touching you. You care about her, against all the guilt and sick thrills you’re about to have thinking of Jake as his near-doppelganger of a girlfriend makes you come, giving you a piece of her she can’t give anyone else, trust you to take it when you know she shouldn’t. She really, really shouldn’t.

      “Jane,” you murmur, “you don’t have to do this.”

      She shoots you what you can only call _a look_ , and responds with shocking confidence: “I _want_ to do this,” as she starts to unbutton your pants. You take your left hand and card it through her hair, quite content with your ability to orchestrate such twisted things.

      She wants this, physically and mentally. She thinks all her thoughts are of her own creation. Yet here you are, looking down as she finally slips off your pants and boxers, proud to know that she’s only doing this because _you successfully worked over everyone_.

      You hear her groan softly as she finally works up the courage to touch you, fingers running over the head, smearing precum around before working you, stroking you in slow, smooth motions along your entire length. She tightens her grip in a few places where you seem the most sensitive before grabbing at the base and finally placing a kiss on the tip.

      _A kiss. Of all the things to do_ , you think for a fleeting moment. Before the familiar pang of guilt you’ve been repressing manages to come out, you feel her lick a short stripe along your head before taking your tip into her mouth, hot and wet, swirling her tongue around it before pressing her lips down to envelop you.

      You sigh, tightening your hold on her black locks, and try to keep your own lips pressed shut as not to reveal how much you actually are enjoying this. For a moment, you let your eyes – still thankfully guarded – close up from overload, and then look back down at Jane, whose face is almost entirely obscured from the careful attention she’s giving you.

      She takes more of your length into her mouth, letting her tongue slide around the bottom of your dick. You realize very soon why she’s doing this: she takes the hand that had been at the base and begins to stroke and work you with the spit her tongue has provided. She uses her mouth and hand in tandem, coating your length in slippery saliva, sliding up and down, pressing against you in ways that make you twitch and sigh. You can feel a hot tension starting to build up in you.

      Then the warm, fleshy sensation of her hand is gone from you. You cringe, just a little, at the sudden feeling of cold air against your cock, only to realize that slowly, warm breath is ghosting its way up your length, followed immediately by the wet, hot pressure of Jane’s mouth. You can feel that she’s sucked in her cheeks enough to make the insides of her mouth press against you even more. You make a fist with your free hand, trying yet again to keep yourself from moaning.

      You think that she’ll eventually stop – she’ll eventually move back up to your tip, lavish it with another flick of the tongue and quickly go back so the same place she was – but she doesn’t. Her mouth continues its descent, lower, lower, lower...until her lips actually _touch your skin_. You shudder, gripping her head tighter, and when she actually _hums,_ you can’t take it anymore.

      Overwhelmed, you pull back, just enough to thrust shallowly into her mouth. When you look down and notice _no sign whatsoever of complaint_ , you do it again, this time deeper. You work up a rhythm, Jane still humming when she’s able, and combined stimulation is enough to have your eyes rolling back in your head. You finally groan, still higher than your usual smooth baritone, and you hear Jane hum a little more in response.

      You take your free hand and, in a fit, grab her head with it, now holding her in place with both. Your rhythmic thrusts become more erratic, less precise, and more downright animalistic, knowing that you’re going to come very, very soon. You barely notice Jane’s hands squeezing at your thighs in sporadic intervals.

      You let out one sigh, followed by a moan, and you know you’re gone. You can’t pull out of her mouth in time; you feel yourself pulsing, spilling yourself entirely inside of her. The bed in the room, the walls, the carpet – everything feels distant as you come down from the sudden spike. Still, there is one detail you’re aware of besides the pleasure: you can feel Jane’s blue eyes looking up at you.

      You open your eyes gradually to see a blushing, bewildered Jane, still on her knees. You’re certain her feet and knees have got to be sore, but she doesn’t seem to notice the redness on those parts of herself. As you loosen your grip on her head at last, you run a thumb along her cheek, and you feel the muscles of her mouth move to swallow it all back.

      The intimacy and wrongness of it all seems to be what snaps you back to reality. You kick off your shoes and step out of your pants and underwear, still awkwardly at your ankles. You help her up and carry her, even though your arms and legs feel like jelly, planting a kiss on her cheek. You’re careful not to let your faces connect – you know how sweaty you must be, and to be honest, you _really want a shower_. For a lot of reasons.

      Instead, you decide to place her in your bed, her exhausted body leaving an impression in the sheets that hadn’t yet been touched. She looks...tired, but satisfied. When she looks up at you, you notice a smile – a genuine smile – creeps upon her lips. You decide to take off your shirt at last, and curl up in bed with her, hazily fixing her hair as she closes the gap between the two of you.

      You know you need to say _something_. You clear your throat and manage in a voice that is still too weak for your liking, “Jane, that was...wow. I-”

      She cuts you off with a finger to your lips. “I assume you enjoyed it?”

      “Yes,” you reply quickly, kissing her fingertip before she withdraws her hand to remove the rest of her own clothes. You’ll admit that you like the feeling of skin-on-skin contact much more than skin on cotton.

      The only word you can think of to describe the experience is “ _damn,_ ” but you know better than to use that word with her, and especially not in this context. Instead, you bring your arms around her entirely, still not moving the sheets to cover the two of you. You’re the only people in the house, after all – and after all this, you don’t see why either of you should feign modesty about being naked.

      “I’m glad,” she offers. “That was something I wanted to do for a long time.”

      You’re genuinely shocked. _You_ were the one on the receiving end of all of that, and yet _she_ enjoyed it? You see another opportunity, another play to make while she’s still all warm, affectionate, and pliant. “I don’t know how far you want...this thing to go,” you start, “but I feel like you’ve done a lot for me and I’ve done nothing for you.”

      “Did you forget what happened in the kitchen?” she offers, voice back in that fake sugary tone. _Of course you didn’t forget, and she knows that._

“No, but that...did not compare to what you just did.” She laughs a little at you, but you’re being entirely serious.

      “Well, what do you suggest would make things ‘fair,’ Dirk?”

      “Anything you want while I’m here.”

      She looks up at you, her face a combination of excitement and shock in the eyes and a mouth that’s trying too hard to remain stoic. “ _Anything?_ ”

      “Anything.”

      “I don’t think you know what you’re sayin-”

      It’s your turn to cut her off, placing a finger at her lips, and in mimicry, she kisses it. “Yes, I know what I’m saying. Jane, if there’s anything you want, I will give it you.” You remember the exact promise Jake gave her, and add, “As much as you wish.”

      She takes a deep breath before getting closer to you, finally breaking a smile. “Okay then. But don’t say at any point that I didn’t try to warn you.”

      You laugh, giving her a kiss on the cheek as you shuffle the sheets around to the two of you. Both of you have sufficiently cooled down; the room is now _too cold_ with no clothes and no cover. “Alright. Would you like to stay in here instead of your room?”

      “Yes,” she says, beaming, as she rolls over away from you to grab up a little sheet around her, taking off her glasses as if she’s going to go to sleep.

      “Do you mind if I take a shower?” You don’t want her to think anything’s wrong, but you’re sweaty and you’d rather be a little cleaner before taking a rest. _Plus, you think a boiling shower might be the cure to that same guilt coming back in your stomach._

“No, not at all! Go ahead.”

      As you walk to the door, suddenly aware of your own nudity and hers, you decide to ask her a simple question. Your voice becomes...uncharacteristically tender. “Jane?”

      She looks up at you, half squinting to make up for the lack of glasses. “Yes?”

      “Are you...you know, okay?”

      She takes a moment before she answers. “Sometimes...things just kind of happen, Dirk.”

      Her response hits you like a punch to the gut. “And Jake?”

      “I don’t want to think about him right now,” she retorts quicker than you anticipated. “Part of me thinks he almost deserves this.”

      You turn to the door, making sure she can’t see the grin you know you’re sporting. “I won’t ask. Just...don’t count him out entirely, okay?”

      “Let’s not talk about him. Go take your...legendary shower!” You hear a laugh in her voice as you exit, but there’s something very, very wrong. You can’t quite place what it is, but you know when you come back, she’ll sleep easy, and you’ll be awake trying to figure out what to do next.  


	14. Chapter 14

TG: jake  
TG: i know its none of my buisness  
TG: *business  
TG: but i kinda know wahts been goin on  
TG: and i wanted to check on u

     Your name is Roxy Lalonde, and it’s times like these you’re actually relieved you’re not romantically involved with any of your friends.

     Sure, you know Jake doesn’t like you, Dirk’s said he pretty much can’t like you, you don’t think Jane swings that way, and it can be...depressing, but when things like this happen, you’re glad you’re not in it. Most of all, you’re really glad you’ve never had to feel this bad.

GT: Hey roxy. Havent talked to you in a while.

     Even his typing looks crestfallen.

GT: But it sure seems thats my reputation these days.  
TG: jake come on  
TG: ya gotta sotp being so down on yourself  
TG: janes upset yeah but shell get over it  
GT: Its not that roxy. I know janes a fantastic dame and shell be just fine no matter what.  
GT: Im more disappointed in myself at this juncture.  
TG: what exatcyl happened  
TG: *exactly  
GT: Jane wanted to plan a secret gettogether under her fathers nose. I didnt quite understand why but when she told me she really just wanted time as a couple i agreed.  
GT: I wanted so badly for it to be perfect so i did what i thought was best.  
TG: and that was???  
GT: I stopped talking to her. I wanted to surprise her you know like they say.  
TG: wtf?  
GT: You know lalonde the old saying of absence makes the heart grow fonder?  
TG: tehy also say outta sight outta mind jake  
GT: Well i know that now. I wanted her to be so happy when she saw me that we would have an amazing time.  
TG: jake no mater what she woulda had a great time  
TG: its you she likes you kno  
TG: not some smarmy horseshit from ur movies  
TG: no offende  
TG: *offense  
GT: Well yes hindsight is 2020 but now im afraid she must think i cant stand her.  
TG: have u tried  
TG: youkno  
TG: TALKIN to her yet?  
GT: No im afraid i havent.  
TG: WHAT THE FUCK ENGLSIH  
TG: *ENGLISH  
TG: the prob is that ur doin this elusive shit  
TG: why havent u talked to her?  
GT: Roxy im sorry. I cant tell you in good conscience but lets say that no matter what i do in this situation i look like a complete cad talking or not.  
TG: i thiiink i know what ur gettiin at  
TG: *gettin  
TG: seriously tho jake u gotta talk to her  
TG: its the only way ur gonna be able to get urself outta this  
GT: Yes it would certainly seem that way but i trust strider will keep his promise.  
TG: woah  
TG: waht  
GT: well you see dirk offered to help me when jane invited me over because i was so flummoxed at the whole thing.

     There’s a bad feeling in your gut. Usually, you’d think it was from a lack of alcohol and take another sip. But as an experienced imbiber, you know that this feeling is not from a breathing liver, but something more...sinister. You start to think back to the last few days, and something – you hope you’re wrong – starts to click.

TG: wait  
TG: STRIDER gave u woman adivce???  
GT: Well yes but when it failed he also offered to save my dignity and repair it. He said within two days things will be taken care of.

     And there it is again, a bad feeling pooling in your abdomen and radiating to your chest like it’s going to eat you alive. Worried and suddenly a bit angry, you decide to put your drinking on hold for a bit as you try to work out what to do, and what’s actually happening.

TG: shit  
TG: holy shit  
GT: You know id never judge you for your language lalonde but i must ask why the sudden shift to more ruffian tongues?  
TG: just  
TG: ok jake  
TG: dont talk to dirk for a bit  
TG: he hasnt been himself for a while  
GT: I dont quite see a difference in him. I anticipated one after i told him about me and jane but hes been positively supportive and helpful.  
TG: DO NOT TALK TO HIM  
TG: just  
TG: hold on okay

\-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased pestering golgothasTerror [GT] –-

     You leave your laptop, hands shaking and chest still feeling like it’s about to explode. You know it’s not the alcohol – the drinks you mix leave maybe a slight stinging feeling to start, but for the most part, they leave you more likely to laugh than get angry. And the feeling you’ve got right now is bubbling, untraceable anger.

     You’re going to need some water and some solid food before you start this.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always I wanna be with you, make believe with you, and live in harmony, harmony, oh love!

     As you slowly sober up from the pumpkins and water, you become more certain of your intuitions. Strider was absolutely distraught when he found out Jake was with Jane – he can hide it behind that cool, creamsicle façade pretty well, but him flat-out admitting he had the worst timing on the face of the planet was enough for you to know he was completely broken.

     You open up a command prompt for an old program you cooked up a little while ago. The cursor blinks, waiting for a command, but you open a new Pesterchum chat instead.

\-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] –-

TG: hey dirk  
TT: Hey.  
TG: got s/t for u  
TT: Oh? Another poorly-written horse joke I’ve probably already heard or made a better version of?  
TG: lol no  
TG: hold on

\-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] sent timaeusTestified [TT] the file ironicpony.exe –-

TT: What the hell am I running?

     He opened it. _Good._

     You flash back to the command prompt screen on your monitor and carefully type in an execute command. You take another sip of your 100% alcohol free water, and press enter.

TG: oh ur not runnin anything  
TT: It’s playing this song over and over.  
TG: lol thatll end soon  
TT: What is this?  
TG: always  
TG: by erasure  
TG: thought youd know it from somewhere  
TT: Robot Unicorn Attack. Cute.  
TG: you know what else is cute?  
TT: I’ll bite. What?  
TG: u  
TG: mister autoresponder  
TT: It seems you have asked about DS's chat client auto-responder. This is an application designed to simulate DS's otherwise inimitably rad typing style, tone, cadence, personality, and substance of retort while he is away from the computer. The algorithms are guaranteed to be 95% indistinguishable from DS's native neurological responses, based on some statistical analysis I basically just pulled out of my ass right now.  
TT: Shit.  
TG: so  
TG: wanna talk robo boy?  
TG: im thinkin we talk about boys  
TG: u like boys ar?  
TT: Roxy, you of all people should know that you and I are a match made in heaven. Your question is completely irrelevant to anything we could discuss in a pleasant way.  
TG: well good thing i already knew this wouldnt be pleasant huh  
TG: we could talk about girls too  
TG: specifically jane  
TG: u been talkin to her ar?  
TT: No.  
TG: alright so its just jake and me then?  
TG: janey must feel left out  
TG: SIGH  
TT: I have no idea what you’re talking about.  
TG: you know what  
TG: you should totally let me see ur logs  
TT: I know others may be confused by my realness attribute, but as a hacker as deadly to the grid ass she is beautiful, you should understand that I am a sapient entity, just as entitled to privacy as anyone else.  
TG: lmao  
TG: no  
TG: okay well do this the hard way  
TT: I beg your pardon?  
TG: the ROGUE way  
TG: ;)

     You tab back to the prompt you have open and type in a few quick lines. 

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] sent tipsyGnostalgic [TG] the file fromjaketojane.txt –-

TT: What did you just do?  
TG: now i wonder ar  
TG: why in the world would u have a private log from jake and jane huh?  
TT: Jake sent that to me for my advice.  
TG: horseshit  
TG: why dont you show me what the real dirk had to say about it

     You tab back again, adding a different command. This time, instead of a seemingly endless list of files and folders, you are able to manipulate Dirk’s desktop computer. 

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] sent tipsyGnostalgic [TG] the file plan.txt –-

TT: Whatever the hell it is that you’re doing, stop it.  
TT: That isn’t yours to read.  
TG: well would u look at that  
TG: turns out jake thought you were the “organic” strider  
TG: know what that means?  
TT: Stop.  
TG: it means technically  
TG: u didnt have any place reading that either  
TG: lol hypocrite  
TT: I am giving you one last warning: stop.  
TG: or what  
TG: ull block me  
TG: oh im so scared glasses will block me  
TG: like i cant unblock myself from u  
TG: what else you got here

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] sent tipsyGnostalgic [TG] the file attraction.txt –-

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] sent tipsyGnostalgic [TG] the file morningmessage.txt –-

TG: id call u fucked up  
TG: but really ur just a puppet  
TT: I am not a puppet.  
TG: blah blah yeah yeah sapient entity blah blah statistical analysis  
TT: How drunk are you?  
TG: blind stinkin sober buddy  
TT: Shit.  
TG: and pissed as fuck  
TT: Stop.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] sent tipsyGnostalgic [TG] the file offer.txt –-

TG: ur such a good friend  
TG: offerin to clean up the mess you made  
TG: lemme guess  
TG: then strider took that proverbial broom and used it to sweep janey off her feet?  
TT: Don’t go there. Roxy, do not go into that territory.  
TG: lol too late  
TG: ud think hed put more security on you if you really were him  
TG: ur just a glorified toy for him  
TT: Shut the fuck up, Lalonde.  
TG: haha did i hurt your feelings  
TG: GOOD  
TG: because u did the same fucking thing to jake  
TG: and i bet to jane too  
TG: lets find out shall we?

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] sent tipsyGnostalgic [TG] the file gutsyGumeshoe_all.txt –-

TG: oh that shiteating MOTHERFUCKER  
TG: seriously he did this???  
TT: Roxy, please stop reading that.  
TG: oh now you say please  
TG: what happened to “stfu lalonde”  
TG: oh wait thats right  
TG: you cant do shit  
TG: except listen to your master  
TG: or whoevers got their hand under ur wires  
TG: well guess what  
TG: i am the puppetmaster  
TG: its me  
TG: enjoy my hand up your nonexistent ass baby  
TT: This is really, really uncomfortable for me, Roxy. Please stop reading those.  
TG: you didnt even SEND these logs so shut up  
TG: hes in washington?  
TT: Like I’m actually going to tell you.  
TG: lol stop being a drama queen  
TG: i dont need u to verify jack shit  
TG: i have the logs right here  
TG: u know  
TG: id call u a bad person  
TG: but seeing as how you really dont have any choice in anything i guess i cant  
TT: You’re trying to use reverse psychology on me. It won’t work.  
TG: ya mostly cuz u dont actually have a brain  
TG: lol  
TG: w/e  
TG: here have this

\-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] sent timaeusTestified [TT] the file sburbalpha.exe –-

TG: open it  
TG: i dare u  
TT: That’s exactly what you want me to do. No.  
TG: k thats cool  
TG: btw im just gonna hijack complete control of you now  
TG: hope thats okay  
TT: What?  
TG: xoxo

     You type a few extra commands into your prompt as quickly as possible, and suddenly have not only access to any files on AR or access to DS’s computer through AR’s privileges, but now complete control of the AR’s program itself.

     Your name is Roxy Lalonde, and you have successfully hacked your best friend’s robotic mental clone.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] is offline! --

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you did not see this coming, I highly recommend you re-read chapter 5.


	16. Chapter 16

     You are so angry you could punch one of your innumerable dead and preserved cats. You growl in frustration, balling your hand into a fist so tight you can feel your nails dig into your palm before slamming your fist down into your desk, the hollow _thud_ resonating through your entire room. You scream – not a shriek, but a kind of raspy _roar_ – and rest your head dejectedly against your keyboard lightly.

     You have a decision you need to make. You wish you could whip up a martini, chug it down, and laugh, but you know you can’t. Your head’s spinning enough from trying to... _comprehend_ the gravity of the situation. Dirk loves Jake. Jake... _maybe_ likes Dirk, _liked_ Dirk, but decided to be with Jane. Jane likes Jake, and now it looks like Dirk is trying to use Jane to hurt Jake in retaliation. 

     Of course Strider would come up with something so convoluted. Plus, Jake is probably still waiting for a response from you – fuck, what do you tell him? “Hey, your would-have-been boyfriend is seducing your kinda-still-sorta girlfriend to get to you?” He’d be crushed, and even if you showed Jake the logs, Dirk could probably find a way to work around it. Stupid goddamn Auto-Responder, able to say he’s Dirk but still not actually _be_ Dirk.

     You want a drink. You want a drink, to punch Dirk in the face, to rescue Jane, and to go hug Jake from across the ocean. Most of all, you’re wondering if maybe – just maybe – you could have done something to prevent this: invited Dirk to your house, went over to his and insist he not be alone in his time of need, told Jake you liked him instead. _Anything._

\-- golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG] –-

GT: Are you still there? I must say youve been gone for quite a while and i hope its not too rude to say but im starting to wonder if you can remember im waiting!

     Fucking shit dammit, what the hell are you going to tell him?

GT: You didnt run off for one of your beverages did you?  
TG: nah im here  
TG: just thinkin about stuff

     He’s going to ask what you’re thinking about. You know he is. You decide to break the news to him in as roguish of a way as possible.

TG: jake u should go and talk to jane  
TG: ask her whats going on  
TG: dont talk to dirk right now  
TG: hes...  
GT: By jove are you sober right now? *clutches kerchief.*  
TG: yeah i am  
GT: Gadzooks! This must be quite the occasion.  
TG: yeah it is but not for a celebration  
TG: look u gotta talk to janey soon  
TG: dirk has been really outta it since you two talked  
TG: i know he seems ok but he isnt  
TG: just trust me  
TG: i know you two are best of bros and palhoncos or w/e  
TG: but i KNOW im right  
TG: pls just do this for me  
GT: Of course. Youre a truly good friend miss lalonde.  
TG: ok so look  
TG: im gonna talk to jane in a bit  
TG: u know girl talk  
GT: While i most certainly have never been privy to girl talk i can understand what you mean yes.  
TG: lol  
GT: *wink.*  
TG: ill let u know when a good time to talk to her is  
TG: if she doesnt talk to you first i mean  
GT: Alright i can very well work with that. I guess. Do you think its too late?  
TG: idk  
TG: i know this shits fubar  
TG: minus the r cuz im gonna try to repair it  
GT: I feel like the most massive tool on the face of the planet for hurting jane like this. And now im wondering if im a bad bro to strider for not trusting him.  
TG: OMG JAKE THIS IS NOT UR FAULT  
TG: dirks got it bad for you ok?  
TG: like REALLY bad  
TG: and u know how he is  
GT: Willing to do anything and everything possible and sometimes even impossible to make things happen i know.  
GT: I just never believed he would be capable of duplicity to someone he cares about. If you love someone you just want for them to be happy even if its possibly not with you!   
TG: omg stop  
TG: ur too sweet  
TG: im gonna see about talkin to jane  
TG: probably dirk too  
TG: u gonna be ok?  
GT: Yes i think ill be able to be patient now thanks to you. You are quite the wonderful gal. *smiles.*  
TG: why thank u mister english  
TG: lemme work my majjyks  
TG: WINK

\-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased pestering golgothasTerror [GT] –-


	17. Chapter 17

     You walk back to your room with only your glasses on and a white towel around your waist. You’ve already fixed your hair, for the most part, and your face is good and dry, though the rest of your skin is maybe a _little damp_ to the touch. You saunter over to your suitcase, still unpacked and full of your clothes, kneel down to unzip it, and are greeted instead with something you discern as a cross between a gasp and a _gulp_ behind you.

     Jane’s still here. You almost forgot.

     You get up and turn to face her. She’s looking down at her lap, and you know that she’s doing this out of some sense of modesty. It’s kind of cute, to be honest, that she’s this _aware_ of you. Back at home, you don’t really have to worry about it – it’s only you, AR, Sawtooth, and Squarewave. What are any of them going to say about you waltzing around in the nude? Nothing – you programmed them to be indifferent to your nudity (save the occasional sass from the Auto-Responder.) Did she somehow forget what happened before you excused yourself?

     “Are you okay?” you ask, concerned. It doesn’t seem fitting to say her name as much anymore, for reasons you can’t quite place. Maybe you know you have her attention, or maybe you don’t need the try pulling at strings as much now.

     She still doesn’t look up. “Y-yeah, I’m okay...”

     “You _do_ know,” you laugh as you shoot her a little smile, “before I left for a pretty earned ablution, I was in less than this.”

     “Yes, it’s just a little different now,” she responds, face not moving from gazing at her hands.

     You consider walking over to her, but if she’s really this uncomfortable, maybe it’s better if you don’t. “How?”

     “It felt more appropriate right after what transpired.” She tries to look up at you, and there’s something...definitely not right about it. She seems certainly _interested_ in looking at you, eyes focused when she brings her neck and face up from its drooping position, but then she goes right back to looking down. The look in the eyes isn’t something people can easily feign, you think, so you take it as a sincere indication of what’s happening. She wants to look at you, likes to look at you, but she _won’t_ , or at least...doesn’t want to seem like she wants to.

     Girls are weird.

     “Well, if it’s uncomfortable for you, I can go change in the bathroom.”

     “No, no,” she waves her hand, “actually, I was just about to take a shower right after you were done.”

     “Alright. Are you going to come back here, or are you sleeping in your own room?”

     “We’ll see, I guess,” she says as she puts her shirt back on and walks towards the door, still trying not to look at you. She takes a quick, almost imperceptible glance at you before she exits, and you go back to unpacking a white t-shirt and orange boxers. (Usually, you sleep in just your underwear, if that, but seeing that Washington is much colder than Texas, you think this will work just fine.) Plus, you don’t want to freak Jane out too much when she comes back for the night

.      She’s going to come back for the night. You think she will. You hope she will. You mean, you just think she will. It’s practically inevitable.

     You put the towel down near your suitcase and lay down in bed, glasses still on as you take a moment to unwind and think about everything. It’s been really great having someone as funny, pleasant, and, er, _talented_ as Jane around. She’s smart, too, and even though she’s very different from you in temperament, you’ve got a lot of respect for her...which is exactly why that knot in your stomach is coming back.

     This plan was supposed to be simple: convince Jane to have a weekend of completely unattached fun, then let her go back to Jake and have the smug satisfaction that you got to do everything first, that you got something he'll _never_ have a chance to have, and if there’s _anything_ she does well to him, it’s because _you showed her how to do it_. You’re sure you could convince Jake to tell you some details of how his meetings with her would go, and you think you’d do well at hinting that maybe _you could do it better_. Or, if she decided to leave Jake, you’d be there to pick up the pieces, still completely single yourself. Now, however, you’re not quite sure how to handle the next step.

     You can’t just leave. Jane’s been nothing if not extremely gracious, and you don’t want for her to be hurt – you really don’t. Plus, you don’t want to be by yourself back in Texas. It’s nice to have an actual human being to communicate with, to have fun with, to _connect_ with. Then there’s the whole...Jake thing.

     Could he forgive you? Why should he? You were in the wrong, no matter how differently this has turned out. He trusted you and you broke that trust. He...deserves better than this, even if he doesn’t know what you did. You should apologize. You should tell him the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and—-

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] \--

TT: strider i swear to god ill fuckin kill u for this shit


	18. Chapter 18

     The words flash across the inside of your glasses, and your heart sinks into your stomach. You feel a sudden jolt of adrenaline, and flashstep to your suitcase to find your phone, a mobile device, _something_ with a Pesterchum client on it so you can answer quickly. You grab your phone, and jump back into the bed, jumping in and trying not to seem too perturbed, just in case Jane is the type to take quick showers.

TT: what the FUCK are you thinking u piece of shit  
TT: do u have ANY idea wtf uve done?  
TT: Roxy?  
TT: dont act all incredulous  
TT: no its ur roboclone i just decided not to sound like a total douche anymore w/my arrogant “cadence” and perfect syntax  
TT: YEAH ITS ME  
TT: Ok.   
TT: ...You hacked AR?  
TT: hellz yeah i did  
TT: I must say, I’m impressed.  
TT: dont try that smooth talk asshole  
TT: back on topic  
TT: topic being that U ARE SCUM  
TT: I know. I fucking know.  
TT: where are u  
TT: Jane’s house.  
TT: well yeah no shit i already knew that from the logs  
TT: where EXACTLY r u  
TT: ...I’m in bed.  
TT: holy fuckin shit  
TT: u didn’t  
TT: u did NOT  
TT: If you think we went all the way, we didn’t.  
TT: omg  
TT: and yet there u are in her bed  
TT: I’m in the guest room.  
TT: and where exactly is she  
TT: She’s in the shower.  
TT: u fuckin monster   
TT: She’s getting ready to sleep, Rox.  
TT: dont play innocent w/me  
TT: I’m sorry.  
TT: BULLSHIT UR SORRY  
TT: really have u considered the consequences of all this??  
TT: Your typing has improved.  
TT: again w/the diversions  
TT: ur talkin to Capn Ro’lal of the good ship sobriety  
TT: Damn.  
TT: not goin down w/this ship but im sailing it for now  
TT: luxury cruise to the island of kick dirk’s ass  
TT: what exactly did you do  
TT: I can’t tell you, Lalonde. Not out of any kind of shame, but because I don’t want you to think ill of Jane.  
TT: tryin to look chivalrous  
TT: cute  
TT: u wanna act like u care about her now  
TT: I do care about her. If I didn’t, do you think I’d feel as bad about this as I do?  
TT: i dont think u feel bad ENOUGH  
TT: remember that file i sent janey  
TT: The fake Sburb file?  
TT: ya  
TT: guess where it is now  
TT: ...  
TT: i sent it to a totally rad pair of shades  
TT: gimme one good reason  
TT: a GOOD reason  
TT: I shouldnt remotely execute it and blind u w/glass in ur eyes  
TT: Because I’m your friend isn’t going to be sufficient for this, is it.  
TT: tbh idek if i can call u a friend right now  
TT: What if I told you Jane’s happy?  
TT: ...  
TT: We haven’t done anything she didn’t want to do.  
TT: Anything that happened, I gave her an opportunity to stop, and she never did.  
TT: this is bullshit  
TT: It’s not. We’ve had a legitimately rad time together. She’s a really great baker.  
TT: u baked?  
TT: We tried. I screwed it up.  
TT: lmfao finally something ur not good at   
TT: In all seriousness, I know what I did was wrong on every single conceivable level. I want to do right by everyone, but I can’t just walk out on Jane at this point. I’m in too deep.  
TT: ur not even worried about jake r u  
TT: I’m plenty worried about him. I know he’ll probably never talk to me again. Jane’s more important right now.  
TT: dirk  
TT: im gonna ask a serious question  
TT: when u told me u couldnt feel u know  
TT: “that way” for a woman  
TT: is that still true now  
TT: I don’t know.  
TT: ...  
TT: do i even know u anymore  
TT: It’s still me. Dirk Strider: manipulative fuckup extraordinaire, now officially in a situation for which he is unprepared in every possible aspect.  
TT: at least ur aware of that  
TT: Jane is happy, Roxy. I came into this with every single bad intention about Jake, but I can’t do it. I can’t hurt her. I know it’ll cost me your friendship – probably Jake’s too – but I need to be here for her and I want to see where this goes.  
TT: r u gonna tell her the truth  
TT: u know the whole “oh btw this was totally originally a revenge slash pity fuck” thing  
TT: We did not “fuck,” Roxy.  
TT: descriptions still accurate  
TT: It is, but that’s not what’s happening here.  
TT: what am i supposed to tell jake  
TT: hes been a wreck  
TT: I know he’s gotta be upset.  
TT: understatement  
TT: hes completely convinced this is all his fault  
TT: Dammit. It’s not his fault, not one bit.  
TT: i know that  
TT: its ur fault b/c he trusted u SO MUCH  
TT: so whatre u gonna do  
TT: You should talk to Jane when she’s done her shower. She should be back in her room soon enough.  
TT: and jake?  
TT: One thing at a time, please. I’m not asking for justice – I’m begging for mercy.  
TT: Roxy, please let me take care of things with Jane before I deal with Jake.  
TT: i hope u get exactly what u deserve  
TT: Can you forgive me?  
TT: idk  
TT: i dont even know what to believe about u anymore  
TT: i mean i knew u were capable of this stuff but i never thought youd actually DO it  
TT: I meant about what I said about not being attracted to women. Could you forgive me?  
TT: just shut up  
TT: shut up and deal with ur sweetie pie janey or whatever  
TT: I’m sorry.  
TT: u will be

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT] \--


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter for a while - I'm sorry! I have too much to do with job interviews and then HOPEFULLY actually working. However, I have a surprise for you - look at the end note.

     As you enter your room wearing a fresh blue towel, you wonder if Dirk knows that you haven’t been forthcoming with him. He’s been nothing but a complete gentleman the entire time you’ve been together this weekend, and yet here you are, treating him like a piece of meat. He hasn’t complained about it, but you’re still feeling a bit guilty about it, even if he’s the one who accepted the invitation.

     You get a Pesterchum message from Roxy after you put on your pajamas.

\-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] –-

TG: hey jane  
TG: just went and got a dirnk  
TG: drink*  
TG: whatsup  
GG: Oh, hello Roxy! I haven’t heard from you in a while.  
TG: yah i know  
TG: u havent been online  
GG: I’ve been rather busy this weekend.  
TG: with what huh  
TG: ;)  
GG: Promise you won’t get angry at me for not telling you?  
TG: i could nvr stay mad a u  
GG: Dirk’s here.  
TG: o rly  
GG: Yes. I invited him over.  
TG: YOU invited him  
GG: Yes! When Jake stopped speaking to me, Dirk offered me some advice to take my mind off of everything, so I invited him over. He even paid for the plane ticket.  
TG: o wow  
TG: so uh  
TG: ok whats been goin on  
GG: Do you really want to know?  
TG: well ya ofcourse  
TG: srsly tho whyd you invite him over  
GG: Ok, so...my intentions were perhaps not entirely altruistic. :(  
TG: meaning waht exaclty  
TG: *what *exactly  
GG: This falls under “girl talk,” so please, don’t tell anyone.  
TG: gotcha *zips*  
GG: I needed SOMEONE.  
GG: It’s been so suffocating living with Dad.  
TG: hes so nice tho  
GG: He is, he really is! You understand, though. Erm...wanting human contact.  
TG: u mean  
TG: sexycontact  
GG: Maybe not that entirely, but...yes.  
TG: ohhh man  
TG: what did u two do  
GG: I could have sworn this whole day he’d been trying to butter me up. Always saying my name, being intentionally suggestive with his word choice...eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore.  
TG: and then  
GG: And then...  
TG: AND THEN  
GG: And I kissed him.  
TG: omg  
GG: Well, more accurately, I licked his face.  
TG: WHAT  
GG: He had cake batter on it, and then we kissed.  
TG: he kissd back?  
GG: Yes.  
TG: is taht all u guys did or  
TG: *that  
GG: No.  
TG: how much did u two do  
GG: I know you want to know for “ur CODEZ,” but, I don’t know if I should tell you all this.  
TG: aw cmon  
TG: bsdies this is important  
TG: *besides  
GG: He picked me up, sat me down on the counter top, and...  
TG: did u two have sex  
GG: Well, not...really. He asked if I was okay with it and I said yes.  
TG: dsjfldsk why  
GG: To put it simply, I was a little desperate. I...ended up returning the favor, too, for using him.  
TG: what about jake!!!   
GG: I don’t know! Does he even care about me?  
TG: holy balls yes  
TG: he thikns hes the worst bf ever for takin striders advice  
TG: *thinks  
GG: Dirk gave him advice?  
TG: yeah on how to ‘woo’ u or sthg  
TG: he gave him bad advice on purpose  
GG: Well, to be honest, I’m not surprised. Dirk’s the kind of person who would do anything to get what he wants.  
TG: ur not mad?  
GG: Yes and no. Yes, I’m upset, but really, Jake should know better!  
TG: he was so nervous and he just wanted to make u happy  
GG: So, of course, he should take advice from a guy who’s been wanting to get into his pants?  
TG: that guy is also his best friend  
GG: Yes, but it’s simply foolish to do under those circumstances! Is he really that oblivious?  
TG: jane come on its jake  
TG: oliious is practically his middle name  
TG: *oblivious  
TG: and he did it because he cares about u  
GG: I think I’m rather content with my current situation, though. Dirk’s been a great guest and we’ve had quite a wonderful time so far.  
TG: jane  
TG: ur kidding  
TG: hes been manipulating u  
TG: to hurt jake  
GG: I’ve been taking advantage, too. In a lot of ways.  
TG: and so jakes feelngs get ttly screwed over  
TG: *FEELINGS  
TG: w/emphasis  
GG: Should I talk to him?  
TG: uh YES  
TG: own up  
TG: i mean look im not gonna stop being friends w/u  
TG: its ur decision and all but srsly? comeon at least try to talk to him  
TG: the ONLY REASON he didnt say anything to u was so youd be all excited when you DID see him  
GG: That’s actually really foolish and manipulative of him, too.  
TG: pot meets kettle  
TG: *kettle  
TG: an otp  
TG: or OT3 since striders like still hot for him and all and u two are a thing  
GG: We are not a thing.  
TG: o  
TG: cuz i got the feeling dirk was actulry lk  
TG: *actually  
TG: getting some WARMFUZZIES for u  
TG: or at least feels bad b/c he thought he could work you over  
GG: He most certainly cannot work me over. Come on, Roxy! You think I’m that foolish? :B  
GG: I was just overwhelmed and gave in. I enjoyed it, but for him to think he’s in charge is ludicrous. To think I was actually going to apologize to him for it!  
TG: so whats the plan  
GG: Talk to Jake, of course. Then, if Dirk’s really “sorry” for lying, well...  
TG: well  
GG: You’ll know the next time we have girl talk.  
TG: ur gonna do it  
TG: UR GONNA DO IT  
GG: Are you sure you’re not angry?  
TG: im mad at him  
TG: im a lil jelous of u but  
TG: srsly if u want a manipulative ahole go for it  
TG: ill stick to my licquir  
TG: *liquor  
TG: and jake  
GG: And Jake?  
TG: while u guys are playing 3 way shenanigans u know  
TG: i liked him too  
GG: I had no idea.  
TG: ya cuz i thought u were SO IN LOVE W/ HIM i baked off  
TG: *backed  
TG: turns out ur jus horny  
GG: It’s not like that.  
TG: itsokay if it is i mean u get it grl  
TG: but srsly  
GG: Jake deserves an explanation, an apology, and someone who really cares about him.  
TG: ive been talkin to him pretty much all day and hes got a huge heart that  
TG: honestly neither of u desrve for this  
GG: You’re probably right. :(  
GG: However, if he’s that foolish, then...do I really want him?  
TG: fine gumshoe go be with your enigma wrapped in a mystery wrapped in a rubix cube with stupid shades  
GG: I think the shades look nice.  
TG: whats that i see  
TG: is it a ship  
TG: ITS A SHIP HOYAH  
GG: :B  
GG: Is he going to be okay?  
TG: yeah i think so but hes gonna be crushed  
TG: u two basically did a double backstab reachaound  
TG: *reacharound  
GG: I’m not even sure if we were still together! It was really unclear.  
TG: unclear k  
TG: just be honest and then deal w/the fallout  
TG: i still love u  
TG: dirk too  
TG: but i jus need some time away from you two  
GG: I understand. I know you must be really, really disappointed. Take as much time as you need.

\-- gutsyGumshoe [GG] ceased bothering tipsyGnostalgic [TG] \-- 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After I am done this fic/request, there will be a sequel to this entire storyline. :)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to hate me for this

     “Alright, Jane,” you tell yourself as you open a new Pesterchum window, “be honest. He deserves that much.” You take a deep breath, already aware of how badly he’s going to be hurt, and start to type.

\-- gutsyGumshoe [GG] began bothering golgothasTerror [GT] –-

GG: Hey there, Jake.  
GT: Oh! Janey! Im so sorry for the disappearing act ive done for the last few days. If its okay with you can i give an account of my reasons?  
GG: Well...sure.  
GT: Jane my dear when you told me that you wanted a meeting that was more...*dabs at brow a bit.*  
GT: Intimate i guess...i panicked. Not because i didnt want to or dont want to but because i wanted you to be happy.

     You’re somewhere between frustration at how stupid his thought process was and crying because you know he means every single word he’s saying, no matter how silly they are.

GT: So i took advice from strider. I hoped youd be so happy that no matter how it went it would be good.  
GG: “No matter how it went?”  
GT: Jane dear look. I understand grandmoms machinery and this islands fauna for the most part. Besides grandma and roxy youre the only lady ive had contact with, and sometimes its downright INTIMIDATING.  
GT: I feel like the worst bro admitting all this. Im supposed to be all sorts of smooth and daring and dapper and i couldnt just get over all that for you.

     And now you think you can feel tears welling up in your eyes. Jake is apologizing to you; he’s done nothing really wrong and yet he feels responsible.

GG: Jake, any time we would have had together would have been just fine!  
GT: Thats not what im talking about! *grabs a fresh kerchief.*  
GG: You’re going to have to be more obvious then, J. Please?  
GT: Ok very well then i guess ill have to sound like some kind of feral beast. Forgive me in advance.

     You want to tell him to stop apologizing, but you’re afraid he’ll ask why you think it’s so unwarranted.

GT: Jane i knew that by taking your invitation i would be accepting an invitation to sex. I know its very ungentlemanly of me but you insisted that was what you wanted.  
GG: It was.

     You’re not sure why you’ve opted for past tense entirely, seeing as how you haven’t had what you were after, but for some reason, talking to Jake like there’s still a chance doesn’t feel right.

GT: Well i didnt want to mess it up you know? The perfect gentleman is also the perfect lover jane.   
GT: I thought that if you were overwhelmed by me being there that i wouldnt need to worry as much about it.  
GT: So striders advice was to distance myself from you as a way to build up the anticipation of seeing me. You know the old saying.  
GG: “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”  
GT: Yes that one. I guess it really failed now didnt it?  
GG: I can’t try to make you feel better about that one. :(  
GT: So he offered to smooth things over with you for me because well i certainly didnt want to look like getting in your bed was all i wanted out of you since you are much more than just a gal i find quite attractive.  
GG: Dirk has definitely helped me feel better.  
GG: It’s why I need to talk to you, actually.  
GG: I don’t know how to say this.  
GT: Janey dear take as much time as you need. We havent spoken in what feels like eternity so i guess this is what i deserve. *laughs a bit nervously.*  
GG: You’re making this harder than I want for it to be.  
GG: When I decided to cancel the date, Dirk was there for me.  
GT: As a good friend to the two of us would be.  
GG: His suggestion was that I simply move on without you and try to have a good weekend, even if you weren’t there.  
GT: Move on without me?  
GG: I assumed you were oblivious to how much your silence hurt me, so I just gave up. I decided to invite Dirk over, and he accepted.  
GT: I see.  
GG: Jake, I needed someone. I wanted it to be you, but Dirk was there and you weren’t.  
GT: *gulp.*  
GG: Please, don’t RP right now. Please!  
GT: Consider the role playing officially off for the day.  
GG: Thank you.  
GG: Dirk came over, was confident and sure and charming.  
GT: Jane you didnt.  
GG: I knew he was playing a part; there was no way he wasn’t.  
GT: Did you fall for it jane? Do i need to go defend your honor?  
GT: You come first none of this bros before well you know the term.  
GG: To answer your question: Yes and no, and then another no.  
GT: I dont quite understand. What happened?  
GG: You don’t need to defend my honor, Jake. I was okay with everything that happened.  
GT: Who made the first move. Thats all i want or need to know.  
GG: I did. I’m sorry.  
GT: Do forgive me but i think i need some time alone.

\-- golgothasTerror [GT] is offline! –-

GG: Please come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate me for this


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with more sadistic authorial tendencies

     You stare at the screen without your glasses, wiping tears that are flowing freely now from your eyes. You can’t imagine how he’s feeling right now – his message gave you no indication one way or the other. You think you would have preferred anger, sadness, screaming, anything besides silence. Your mind starts to fill in the gaps that kind of quiet leaves, and knowing you’re in the wrong means one thing: the ideas coming up are painful to entertain.

     There is a gray dot next to his handle.

     He’s there in his room, you imagine, throwing his Skulltop across the room a little harder than expected. He tears one of his beloved movie posters, unaffected by the sound it makes as he heaves a sigh of frustration and anger. His teeth are clenched tight, judging from the tension in his jaw.

     There is a gray dot next to his handle.

     He sprawls out like a starfish into his bed before curling up on his side, pulling up sheets to swaddle himself. He doesn’t move his head to look anywhere besides at his wall; he’s too close to discern anything meaningful from the patches of color and text. The sheet shakes, almost shivers, as he draws a deep breath to keep himself composed.

     There is a gray dot next to his handle.

     He gets up and looks at the photographs he has of you, the lady in his life, and Dirk, his best bro, and runs a hand over both of them, appreciating the finer details of your eyes, Dirk’s smile, your skirt, his hands. He flips them over so he can’t look at the images, and sighs.

     There is a gray dot next to his handle.

     He goes back to sitting on the edge of his bed after grabbing his Husktop. His entire face looks deflated, and in his eyes you can see only one sentiment: defeat. There are no tears – just green eyes lazily fixed on the screen, too full of questions and hypotheticals to notice anything else. He hangs his head a little lower than he usually does.

     He sighs and closes his eyes. 

     He does not cry.

     There is a green dot next to his handle, at last.

\-- golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] –-

GT: Jane.  
GT: All i want is for you to be happy.  
GT: If you wanted to end this relationship i would have understood. Long distance friendships are hard enough and when you add to that all the bewildering complexities of romance it can be a little too much.  
GT: Plus the fact that we are just too far way to help each other with certain personal aspects of a relationship. *ahem.*  
GT: Our relationship was new enough that it wouldnt have been too much of a loss really.  
GT: I guess what i want to say is well its okay.  
GT: You have my blessing or approval or whatever word it is people prefer for accepting that a gents former lady and best bro were canoodling on the sly and most likely will continue to do so.  
GT: If thats what makes you happy then i want you to do it. You deserve all the best in the world even if i cant help give it to you.  
GT: But for the love of kicking christ if youre going to go off with someone else at least damn well end things with me proper first.  
GT: I know gumshoes have to be sneaky sometimes but if you cant be honest with the person youre closest to then by jove you might as well call your relationship over and done.  
GT: I guess what im trying to say is if you were unhappy you could have fucking told me.  
GT: Thats all there is to say on the matter really.  
GT: Have a good weekend with whatever else you have planned.  
GT: Tell dirk i said hi i guess.

\-- golgothasTerror [GT] is offline! –-

     You cover your face with your hands and weep.

     There is a gray dot next to his handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate me for this even more


	22. Chapter 22

      You can’t pretend you don’t hear her crying anymore.

      You open the door to her room and see her, freshly-scrubbed face now pink and wet with tears. You practically flash-step across the room to get to her, placing your right hand on her shoulder as you run your left hand through her still-damp black hair.

      “I can take a guess at what’s goin’ on,” you begin. “What exactly did he say?”

      She says nothing and gestures to the screen. You see the all-emerald pesterlog and read it. You’ve never heard Jake so bitter or broken before. You rub your thumb against Jane’s back in circles soothingly until she gets up from her chair and puts her arms around you, burying her face in your chest. You respond in kind, hugging her closer and planting a consoling, avuncular kiss on her head.

      The whole situation begins to sink in for you as you rub her back, muttering phrases like “ _It’s okay_ ” and “ _Shh, I’m here;”_ nothing about this is what you had anticipated. A few days ago, you thought you’d be happy to see Jake so hurt and callously returned to Texas, leaving Jane responsible for the gravity of her own actions – after all, she could have backed out and didn’t. Now, you can’t imagine leaving her like this, and Jake – Jake who? – is a secondary concern. You bring your left hand to the side of her face and wipe away a tear from her cheek.

      “Come on, Heiress, let’s go downstairs.”

      “For what?” her voice is still wavering.

      “Let’s watch a movie. Something. _Anything._ ”

      You pick her up and carry her like a princess – something about her being so sad makes you want to be extra tender towards her – and walk slowly out the door and down the stairs, gently placing her on the couch before kissing her again, this time softly on the lips. Her expression is nebulous; blue eyes glazed over from crying, a hint of a smile on her mouth, brows angled to make her eyes show a touch of _guilt_.

      There is only one thing on your mind: _you broke something – someone. Now you need to fix it._

      “Stay here, sweetheart. Pop in a movie and I’ll come right back.”

      “What are you doing?” she asks accusatorily. She’s sick of wondering how much of what’s happening is manipulation, you can tell; she’s overwhelmed, exhausted, and _God you just want to make everything okay right now._

“If I remember correctly, there are two cake pans still in the oven that never got made. I’m not letting our hard work go to waste.” You feel a smile bloom on your face, and when you see Jane actually _grin_ , you feel a warmth in your chest that comes as a relief.

      “Set it to about 330 and give it about 33 minutes or so,” she says as you walk back into the kitchen, careful not to slip on the... _evidence_ left from the last time you two were in there.

      “Lot of threes in there,” you call to her. She manages a laugh, and that same relief comes back to you.

      You really like seeing and hearing her happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am intentionally writing fast updates as an apology for the really angst-ridden, sadder chapters as of late. I couldn't leave any readers hanging like that for an extended period of time. There should be some more updates soon.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with more inter-textuality

      Dirk comes back into the living room about 75 minutes later.

      You just looked for some sheets and fumbled around the DVDs you have while slipping in and out of consciousness. It’s late – really late – but you can’t quite get to sleep for some reason. Probably because your head is still spinning from everything, and the cold, bitter, and _completely deserved_ messages Jake sent you keep playing back in your mind. A full night’s rest would be a welcome escape, but it continues to elude you as the warm, buttery, sweet scent of cake fills your nostrils.

      When he comes back, he’s got a _flawlessly frosted_ red velvet cake in tow, exactingly sliced, and two separate plates for each of you. He quickly goes back to grab the remaining necessities after placing the cake and plates on the coffee table, along with two glasses of milk.

      He looks rather proud of himself as he serves a slice to you first.

      “How long did you take on the frosting?” you ask, noting its seamlessness.

      You expect a “bro” pun-filled retort, so you’re quite surprised when you get sincerity: “Honestly?” he chuckles, “A lot longer than it should have taken. I’m not on your level yet.”

      “Oh, come on!” You think he’s being a little more humble than necessary. “How long did it take you?”

      “The cakes took less time than anticipated and actually cooled pretty quickly. They were ready for the frosting in about 40 minutes.”

      “Did you really take _the rest of the time_ to frost this?”

      He looks...bashful! “...Yes.”

      “Well, for a first attempt, this is _amazing_.”

      “Kitchen’s cleaned up, too.”

      “Aren’t you the gentleman?”

      His mouth turns into a frown as he moves a slice onto his own plate. “No, I’m not.”

      “We can’t both beat ourselves up right now,” you say, trying the smallest bit of your slice as you can. It’s not that you don’t think Dirk can cook – you’re just not up for sweets right now.

      “What cinematic masterpiece did you pick out for us?” he asks, changing the subject as he sits down next to you.

      “Oh! I couldn’t find anything.”

      “So you’ve been sitting here just waiting for me?”

      “I kind of drifted in and out. It’s very late.”

      “Yeah, it is. You can go to bed if you want; I won’t be upset.”

      “I can’t. Too much on my mind.”

      His voice softens. “Me too. Let’s do what we can, then.”

      Dirk walks over to the rack of DVDs – or rather, which DVDs are _left_ on the rack. So you didn’t feel like putting them back in place after reading the summaries? You’ll clean them later.

      “So,” he begins in a melodic voice. “We’ve got Casablanca-”

      “ _No_ ,” you snap, cutting him off mid-sentence.

      “Oh,” he replies, remembering some of the plot points of the film. “Yeah, let’s look somewhere else.”

      You take another bite of the cake while he tries to recover. It’s...kind of charming to see him like this! Sure, he’s attractive when he’s got everything under control, but there’s something almost _cute_ about seeing him trying to _seem_ like he knows what he’s doing, when he really doesn’t.

      He kneels to the floor to get a closer look at the selections on the lower parts of the rack. “Crystal Skull?”

      “ _Really?!”_

“Shit, sorry.” You’d cry if not for him being precious when he’s flustered. “Uh...Jane?”

      You look over to him, mouth full of red and white. “Yeam?”

      “You speak Italian?”

      “Wha- make- you thin- I speak Italyium?” you ask, too tired to care that you’re talking with your mouth full.

      “There’s some kind of opera over here. Pretty sure it’s not in English.”

      “Whazzit called?”

      “Uh, looks like you’d pronounce it, 'Cara Mia’?”

      You take a drink of cold milk and swallow the rest of your bite before speaking this time. “I think that’s Dad’s.”

      “He is a man of refined tastes, Jane. Just when I think he can’t get classier – boom. Opera. _Exotic, foreign opera._ ” You crack up – he’s obviously tired and having too much fun with the idea of _opera._

“Dirk, if you’re in a theatrical mood, I think there’s some musicals over there.”

      “ _Oh yes_ ,” he says, voice low, smooth, and almost lusty. “I know what _we’re_ watching.”

      He comes back to the couch with a DVD cover featuring a pair of bright red lips. _Oh no, not this movie._

“Is that what I think it is?”

      “If you think it’s Rocky Horror, then you’re right, Jane.”

      “Is that really appropriate right now?” you ask as he pops it into the DVD player.

      He turns around, eyes _maddeningly obscured_ by those _pointy shades,_ and shoots you a smirk. _Well, you guess it kind of is._ Maybe you could manage to have a sense of humor about it. _Maybe_.

      “This movie is _so bad_ ,” you protest, giving him a teasing shot in the arm when he sits down next to you.

      “So bad, it’s actually _good_ ,” he replies before finally taking a bite of his slice of cake. “Unlike this cake,” he says as he swallows, “which is so good it’s actually _great.”_

      “Funny, I was about to say this movie’s _exactly_ like this cake, then,” you tease, sticking out your tongue at him in the process.

      He hits the play button on the menu and lets himself get a little closer to you as he sips his milk. “Seriously though, Dirk, you did a good job with the cake.”

      “Thank you ma’am,” he says, drawl intentionally coming out. “We do make a good team.”

      “Shh, Dirk, narrator’s talking,” you reply excitedly.

      “Oh, yeah. Forgot he’s a criminologist. Kind of your thing,” he taunts.

      “ _You_ picked the movie,” you sass back.

      “Yes I did. Now, let’s enjoy it.”

      You finish your slice and let yourself get a bit more comfortable. Dirk puts an arm around you, and it’s comforting enough that you can let yourself laugh at the movie without it feeling forced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this a big enough apology for the angst?


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AKA DirkJane the musical

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of things I regret in life

      You picked out this movie to look at Rocky in a gold speedo and nothing else. Well, maybe that’s not the _only_ reason you picked it out, but it was certainly a motivating factor. The campiness and pure ridiculousness of this movie never goes out of style, though. Plus, the singing and dancing isn’t bad at all.

      They get to the scene with “Dammit Janet,” and while the dated, corny B-flat-major tune makes _you_ want to sing (ironically), you notice Jane heave a sigh. Her eyes are back to being sorrowful, looking at bespectacled Brad Majors declaring his love for Janet Weiss.

      You didn’t realize how much like Jake he actually looks until just now.

      Well, the highest forms of irony have a strong amount of sincerity; your brother taught you well in that regard. You might as well use your ironic skills and sincere desire to make Jane feel better. You hope she just doesn’t laugh too hard at you.

      Just as the song starts to pick up from the fill, you tap Jane on the shoulder, effectively snapping her out of her gloomy haze. She practically drops her fork when she registers what you’re doing.

      “The river was deep, but I swam it,” you sing along with Mr. Majors, pausing for the background singers to respond with “Janet.” Jane looks absolutely horrified, and her shaking lip is just amusing enough for you to continue with _vigor._

You get up close to her for the next line, over-enthusiastically, “The future is ours so let’s plan it!” She’s starting to hold back giggling now, so you bring your index finger _just close enough_ to her lips in a mock-silencing gesture, singing more sweetly, “So please, don’t tell me to can it...”

      “I have one thing to say and that’s _dammit, Janet,”_ you say with determination, getting right into Jane’s face. “I love you.”

      Jane’s smiling and laughing now, gesturing for you to continue. Apparently your theatrical debut is going over better than you anticipated. It’s probably in the wee hours of the morning, you’re exhausted, and trying to stave off remnants of guilt yourself, so you just let yourself have a little more fun.

      You get up from the couch and decide to serenade Jane a little more with the song.  “The road was long, but I ran it! There’s a fire in my heart and you fan it! If there’s one fool for you, then I am it. I’ve one thing to say and that’s _dammit, Jane-it, I love you.”_

She heaves an amused sigh as you sit back down on the couch, because _fuck no you are not hitting those high notes_. You’d categorize your voice as a baritone, and even attempting that falsetto would be a severe breach of brotocol. Your tessitura will not abide.

      ...Ok, so you maybe kind of like musicals. What’s the big.

      Jane looks disappointed when you stop, asking you as you sit again, “Aww, why’d you quit? That was good!”

      “I am no tenor.”

      “Oh geez, you’re a primadonna. Come on!”

      Jane scoots up to you, not unlike you did a few moments earlier, and waits for Janet’s part to start before trying to sing back. Her voice is light, airy, and just the _tiniest bit raspy_ at times, but charming as her eyes light up when the tonic chord strikes: “Oh, it’s nicer than Betty – Crocker – had, oh Brad!” (You appreciate the sudden improv and smirk.)

      “Now we’re engaged and I’m so glad!” She changes the words on the fly again, “You can’t meet Mom and don’t know Dad,” she croons as she gets up and looks you in the face as she sings the last line: “I’ve one thing to say and that’s Brad – I’m mad – for you too...”

      Her voice sounds a lot better in the higher range as she hits the E-flat in the soaring refrain. You didn’t know Jane had it in her, but it’s a really pleasant surprise. At home, you really only have your own voice to hear; Squarewave and Sawtooth’s voices are distinctly synthetic. You’ve grown to love hearing people talk and especially sing – you have a few songs saved on your computer at home to appreciate vocal ability. Still, there’s something about hearing singing live that can’t be replicated.

      Now that you think about it, this is the first time anyone’s sang in person for you. Or you for anyone else, for that matter.

      You decide to chime in at the last part of the song, somehow managing to harmonize with Jane’s soprano without completely screwing up. As the song comes to a close, both of you are chuckling, readjusting on the couch and not entirely sure _what the hell just happened._

      “That was...certainly...something,” you offer.

      “You have a beautiful voice!”

      You’re taken aback for a moment. “Uh, thank you.” She smiles again, like she enjoys seeing you uncertain. “You’re not bad yourself. My question, though, is this: if this movie is ‘so bad,’ how do you know all the words?”

      “Okay, there are _some_ parts I like.”

      “The whole thing.”

      She jokingly shoves you before helping herself to another, smaller slice of cake. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS NOT ONE OF THEM
> 
> (Also, lots of headcanons in that chapter: Dirk can actually sing really well, but doesn't have anyone to sing to, or really any reason to do so for the most part. He likes the voices of others because he doesn't get to hear them that often because of his living situation. Also also, I headcanon that Jane is a soprano, Roxy is an alto, Dirk is a baritone, and Jake has a beautiful tenor with flawless falsetto. Come at me?)


	25. Chapter 25

      Both you and Dirk probably had had a _little_ too much sugar by the time “Timewarp” started playing. You both shamelessly rose from the couch and did the dance around the room, singing with the harpy-like pitches of the chorus. It only really hit you that the two of you were in your pajamas (and by that you mean your _underwear)_ once you got to the direction to “do the pelvic thrust.”

      Dirk was pretty enthusiastic about the gesture. He wasn’t looking at you, but the tall blonde in the white t-shirt and orange boxer shorts certainly gave _you_ something to look at. The motions were exaggerated enough to be comical, but were pretty...suggestive nonetheless.

      As you adjust your shirt after all the dancing, Dirk gestures for you to sit down on the couch, seemingly aware of what you were thinking.

      “You know, most movies have this kind of stuff as subtext. Rocky Horror? Nah, we’re just gonna put a Sweet Transvestite and some Frankenstein references as the main text with a gay wedding scene. You really gotta love it.”

      His commentary reminds you of a question that’s been tugging at you. You’ve seen this movie plenty of times, so you decide to ask, knowing you won’t miss anything. “Speaking of which...”

      “Yes?” He turns from the screen and looks at you, giving you his full attention. Sure, you can’t see his eyes, but you can certainly _feel_ them on you.

      “I’m not sure how to ask this.”

      “Take the direct route.”

      “Are you gay?”

      He pauses and bites his lip before answering. “Are you familiar with the Kinsey scale?”

      He’s lost you. “No.”

      “It’s a scale from 0 to 6, developed in the 1950s. Sexologist named Kinsey did some research and discovered that very few people identified as a 0 or a 6.”

      “Those being?”

      “A zero indicates exclusive heterosexuality-”

      You cut him off. “And a six would be exclusively homosexual.”

      “Right. Very, _very_ few people fall into those two categories.”

      “Where are you?”

      “Well...I’d say somewhere between a four and a five.”

      Closer to homosexual, but maybe once or twice there’s been an attraction to women? “Why don’t you identify as bisexual, then?”

      “I honestly don’t see why it has to be a thing,” he muses. “I’m...not really the kind to go sleeping with anything that moves. Plus, labels are supposed to be a way to simplify communication, right?”

      “Right.”

      “I’m not really communicating with many people who would find that relevant. You, Roxy, and Jake are all I’ve got.” He sighs. “Although I may not have Jake or Roxy now.”

      “Or Roxy?”

      “She knows about this whole quagmire.”

      You nod. “Yes...I know.”

      “Well...she’s always harbored some kind of feelings towards me.”

      “Why didn’t you go for her?”

      “That ‘between a four and a five’ rating? Closer to a five, I’d wager.”

      “Then...”

      “Roxy’s emotionally fragile. I’m not saying that as an insult; it’s just a fact that she needs a lot of stability in her life that she doesn’t have on her own.”

      You agree. Roxy doesn’t seem to understand that while her typos are cute and almost funny, you can’t help but worry about her drinking sometimes. “I can’t risk the fallout if she and I became ‘a thing’ and it didn’t work out,” he continues. “I don’t think she’d hurt herself or anything like that, but I think she wouldn’t be able to handle it for a while.”

      “And you wouldn’t want to lose your friend.”

      “Exactly. I know if we dated and then broke up, there’s no way we could be friends the same way we were.”

      You finish off your glass of milk and set it back on the table with a coaster, getting the nerve to ask a bigger question. “And me?”

      He sighs, the movie reaching a point that’s thankfully very quiet. “You’re strong in ways she isn’t yet. When you and Jake had your falling out, you bounced right back. If this...doesn’t work, whatever you want to call it, I’m not worried you’ll go rogue or anything like that.”

      “I guess I’ll thank you for that, Dirk.”

      “Since we’re on the ‘personal question’ round of this feelings jam, mind if I ask you the same question?”

      You’re bewildered. “Beg your pardon?”

      “On a scale of 0 to 6, where do you think you are?”

      _Oh geez._ You stammer while trying to forge a confident reply. “T-that’s a little...complicated...”

      Dirk quirks an eyebrow at you. “Hrm?” He looks genuinely surprised, with a hint of a smirk on his face.

      “I think I’d be...a two? Two and a half?”

      “Oh,” he says with a surprised tone. “...care to share?” He laughs, and you roll your eyes.

      “You’ve gotten quite enough of ‘what I find attractive,’” you retort.

      “...Well played, Jane. Well played. I am...pretty impressed.”

      “Thank you very much. Can I ask one more question?”

      “Sure. Shoot.”

      You both take a few minutes to watch Tim Curry seduce both Janet and Brad. His carriage, bravado, and charisma makes you think of how Dirk managed to orchestrate this entire affair – all puns intended. You decide not to bring it up yet; he’s been entirely sincere since he checked on you in your room. The attentive attitude’s shifted, from what you can tell – he’s no longer constantly convincing you of your autonomy, but treating you like your autonomy isn’t up for debate. Your detective chops come in handy sometimes.

      “Roxy told me she got the feeling you had some kind of legitimate, romantic attraction to me.”

      He doesn’t look at you. You know he’s trying not to give anything away, so you continue to speak. “She mentioned you’re happy with this arrangement. Is that true, or were you just trying to get your friend to back off?”

      “It’s true,” he relents, almost like he’s been found out.

      “Does that mean her first statement is true, too?”

      He turns, looks you in the face with eyes you _know_ have got to be soulful (if only you could see them), and places his hand over yours. “I don’t know. This is...”

      “Different? New?”

      “Both,” he answers, “and I don’t want to lose you possibly, either. Are you okay with all this?”

      “About as okay as I think I can be,” you reply anemically. “I hope Jake will forgive me.”

      The lyrics to “Creature of the Night” start to ring in your ears and Dirk’s, and their relevance to how you feel about what you did sting. You start to laugh, and your laughter turns to sniffling.

      As soon as Dirk detects tears, he pulls you closer and into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you again on the forehead. You look up at him, his face upside-down, and try to apologize as he turns off the movie.

      “I’m really sorry,” you huff, “it’s not that you’re not great or anything like that.”

      “It’s okay; don’t beat yourself up.” You feel his hands in your hair again, and you close your eyes to relax, arching your neck up into his touch. His hands are always so warm. “I want for _you_ to be happy. No tears.”

      For some reason, the kindness in his voice makes you sob. He hums, moving his hands to run up and down your arms to soothe you. Dirk offers, voice barely above a sweet whisper, the same offer he gave you earlier: “Jane, anything you want. If you want me to leave, I’ll lea-”

      “Don’t.”

      “Is there anything I can do?”

      “Put the rest of the cake away and let’s go to bed.”

      “Your room, mine, or separate?”

      “Yours.”

      He leans down and gives you a faint peck on the mouth, untangling himself from you in a way that ensured you weren’t uncomfortable. He’s still so considerate, trying to take charge of every little detail.

      He cleans the table, turns off the television, and heads into the kitchen, taking a detour to the laundry room to drop off the clothes you had left in there from earlier. When he returns, he picks you up – he must have seen how tired you were – and carries you back up the stairs, humming “Dammit Janet” to himself as he reaches his door and places you softly into bed.

      He finally gets in, laying on his side and spooning you, practically cradling you. He plants a kiss against your neck as you close your eyes and drift off. The last thing you remember him saying to you in a lazy, low whisper stays with you as you finally fall asleep.

      “Jane, if there’s anything you want, I’ll do it. Say the word, and I’ll make it happen.”

      “Tomorrow,” you manage, not wanting to move a muscle from your comfortable spot.

      “Tomorrow?”

      “You’ll see...just...let me sleep, okay?”

      “Okay.”

      You both fall asleep easily. 


	26. Chapter 26

       You wake up and there’s nothing pressed to your chest, no wisps of thin black hair tickling your neck, no smell of soap and flowers under your nose, no Jane. You miss the feeling, and you miss her.

      You assume she must have gotten up earlier than you and freshened up for the day, but you think it would have been nice to wake up together. This is the first time you’ve ever slept with someone – not in the conjugal sense, but in the literal sense, and it felt good. You never recognized how much you wanted human contact until you were deprived of it this morning.

      ... _is_ it morning?

      You roll over and see a clock reading 11:30 AM – morning, but much later than you would prefer to wake up. You grab up what you need for a fast shower (about an hour) and scrub up, making sure you’re clean and presentable for the day.

      When you go downstairs, you see Jane’s kindly prepared a light brunch: fruit with yogurt, fresh orange juice, scrambled eggs, and toast. She gives you a kiss as you sit down, and you return the gesture in kind before she takes her place across from you.

      There’s something different about how she looks this morning. Her hair looks the same, as does her face, eyes, and lips, but her figure...you can’t quite place it. Her skirt – a lovely shade of cyan, if you do say so yourself - is a little tighter and shorter, but her torso is what’s really throwing you off. Her light blue, short-sleeved shirt is conservative, yes, but...

       You’d take more time to think about it, but you’d rather not stare too long – it’s rude, and you’d rather not let a home-cooked meal go cold.

      She smiles as you try some of the yogurt and strawberries, watching you like a hawk as she sips her drink calmly. She’s more poised than she was yesterday, when you got here.

      “How did you sleep, Dirk?”

      “Great. Just wish you would have stayed.”

      “I wanted to give you a surprise for when you woke up,” she replies.

      “Oh, yeah,” you answer between bites and sips, “this is just great. Thank you. The orange juice especially – wow.”

      “I’m glad you like it.” Her voice is soft but certain.

      “Still would have been nice to have you there when I woke up,” you tell her, looking up at her again. Her posture is magnificent; she never really _slouched_ , but today she’s practically a model from those 1950s mental hygiene films on how to carry yourself. She barely touches what little is left on the plate she made for herself, you note.

      You finish your food happily, and remember the promise you made to Jane yesterday and before you fell asleep. You want to make sure she knows you’ll rise to the occasion for her sake. Jane shoots you a sly kind of smile. She shows no teeth this time, unlike her usual grin, and she rises from her seat, pushes the chair back in, and starts to walk over to you.

      Before you can even begin to bring up the topic, she’s kissing you. Her lips are soft but the kiss is quite forceful and passionate; her hot breath makes your heart thump a little harder, and she makes you part your lips to allow her tongue to explore your mouth. She grabs your hair in her fist, pulling it as she bites at your lip. You become aware that your hands are _nowhere_ on her, but as you move to touch her, you feel a weight in your lap and your hands suddenly touching warm fabric. You let your fingers trace and grab at the body practically pinning you in place, and you realize your hands are at her hips.

      Jane is straddling you in the chair, you finally conclude as you try to snap out of your disarmed state.

      She sucks your bottom lip between hers, finally breaking the kiss to leave small bites and pecks on your neck, sucking at parts where you _know_ she can hear you sigh and whine. The whole room feels distant, your skin feels like it’s on fire, and as she moves your shirt just enough to nip at your collarbone, you shift her body to align her heat to the lump in your jeans.

      Just as you start to rock her in your lap, she stops. The sudden lack of stimulation hits you like a bucket of cold water to the face. You open your eyes wide and see Jane’s blue eyes, positively possessive and determined.

      “You said we’d do anything I wanted, right?” her voice is husky, low, sultry.

      “Yes ma’am,” you respond without missing a beat.

      “ _Anything?_ You can say no and we’ll do something else.”

      “Yes,” you manage to say. To her, it sounded like yes, but to your ears, it sounded like _Oh sweet Lord in Heaven just keep doing what you’re doing don’t stop holy shit._ “Anything you want.”

      “Upstairs. My room. Now.”

      You carry her up the stairs, sneaking sloppy, biting kisses while she still has her legs wrapped around you. You can feel your face turning red, and you’re really glad you could actually manage to focus.

      When you both get into her room, she gives you a _glare_ that sends a jolt down your spine _and_ into your pants. “Lay down.” It’s not a request, but a _command_ ; her voice is so confident and assured that you really don’t think you have much of a choice in the matter. You lay down, spread out on her bed, and look at her as she walks to the side of the bed with her hand in a pocket on her skirt.

      Your hair stands on end when you feel something cold metal snap onto your left wrist, followed by the hollow ringing of metal hitting what you assume would be the bar of her headboard. She reaches over and does likewise to your other wrist, rendering you unable to use your arms.

      She walks back around in front of you, and from the gleam in her eyes, she appreciates her work. You feel helpless under that gaze, like a freshly caught bit of prey about to be eaten by a hungry predator. She smirks wryly before slipping off her skirt, revealing a pair of red, silk and lace panties, and as she removes her bulky, old-fashioned shirt, you become aware of the source of the difference in her torso: a matching, corseted lingerie top.

      You can feel your jaw about to hit the floor as she walks towards you, this time kneeling between your spread out legs. She moves towards your ear and whispers, her breath hot and moist against your neck:

      “All this time, you thought I didn’t know.”

      Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you can’t quite tell if it’s from fear or arousal anymore. Her voice is thick with lust and arrogance as she continues in a mocking voice, “‘Oh, Jane, let me give you advice to mend your broken heart. I’d _never_ take advantage of you. These things just _happen_.’”

      You hear your breath hitch against your will, and she _giggles_ , a feminine and condescending kind of laugh. “Do you really think I’m that stupid, Dirk?”

      You’re almost afraid to talk. “No, I don’t-”

      She doesn’t give you the opportunity to finish your thought. “Jake might be foolish enough to think you’re all good intentions. You came over here with a plan, didn’t you? Sweep me off my feet, get me to forget my boyfriend...” She runs a finger along your neck in the places she had bitten earlier, the sudden surge of pain, pleasure further blurring the line of arousal and fear for you. “You thought you were in control this entire time, didn’t you?”

      You don’t want to answer, but you know you have to. “Yes, I did.”

      She giggles again. “And yet there you were, telling me over and over again, ‘you’re the leader, it’s you.’ You didn’t really think I was.”

      You admit it. “No.”

      “You are a manipulative prick, Dirk.” Her words sting more than you anticipated, but they don’t stop the warmth from pooling low in your abdomen. “Good thing you already told me you’d do anything I wanted. First things first, let’s get rid of these.”

      She takes off your glasses, and your body betrays you: you gasp as she places them on the floor to the side. You could handle being naked in public, you think, so long as you had your glasses. This is an overload for you.

      “Your eyes are orange,” she remarks in a tone that strikes you as _reverent._

“Yeah,” you manage, still in a haze. There’s not much coming to you anymore; words are falling out of your mind, leaving only short answers that you _know_ make you sound pathetic. You anticipate an insult, but instead, she kisses your eyes and gives you a hint of a sincere smile.

      Okay. She meant what she said about you being allowed to say “no” if this goes too far.

      She leaves the bed and walks to her red chest, giving you a good look at her backside as she does. She calls to you as she fiddles with the lock, popping the chest open, “I want you to be able to see everything I’m going to do to you.”

      You feel adrenaline hit you like a ton of bricks, cock twitching in your pants when she turns around, revealing long, pristine, silvery _knife_ in her hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn't see this coming, you need to re-read. This has been hinted at as early as chapter 3. (I recommend in particular that you re-read chapters 3, 4, 6, 7, and 11 in particular.)


	27. Chapter 27

TG: u gotta sotp blamin urself  
TG: u ever think mayb it jus wasnt meant tobe??  
GT: No thats not why it didnt work out roxy. Those two are together now because im an insufferable twit with no blasted clue how people work.  
GT: Interacting with people isnt anything like cinema would make it seem.  
TG: jake ur brrking my heart here  
TG: *breaking  
TG: ur not a twit or w/e word u wanna use  
GT: I bet those two social butterflies are having a stupendous time with each other.  
TG: jake... :(  
GT: Probably cuddled up on the couch watching movies like a good date night would go.  


* * *

     You walk to the edge of the bed and admire your handiwork for a few seconds and lick your lips in anticipation. There’s so much more you can’t wait to do, but you maintain as neutral of a look as you can manage.

     You take off his shoes one-handedly, one at a time. You slip off his white, flimsy socks, tossing them to the floor with his black sneakers. You finally climb into bed, kneeling again between his legs, and place the knife down on the mattress near his right side. You’ll need both hands for this part. (And besides, he’s a bit _held up_ at the moment. What’s he going to do? Hoo hoo.)

     You look up at him as your hands fall to the button on his pants. No wonder he keeps his glasses on all the time; his eyes are remarkably expressive, just as you surmised they had to be. He’s trying very hard not to flinch or move his eyes – too hard. He’s nervous, maybe even a little scared, but you can already tell from feeling at his pants that the fear certainly hasn’t drained him of any desire.

     Still too tense. Too proud.

     You undo the button on his pants and watch how he reacts. He presses his lips together, as if anticipating having to hold back a sigh, mewl, or groan. His eyes start to close a little as you unzip him, running your fingers down his legs as you pull his pants off, leaving him only in his white shirt and orange boxers. 

* * *

TG: evn if they are  
TG: it doesnt matter tho  
TG: ur a great guy and u even said  
TG: u gave them ur bleesign  
TG: *blessing  
GT: Yes i did. I hope i dont sound like a selfish kind of cad but i hoped shed come back or at least not talk to him until i do.  
GT: I think he and i need to have a serious heart to heart.  
TG: i understand but ru RLY prepared to handle him rite now???  


* * *

     By the time your hands return to his groin, even you’re surprised by how hot he is already. You notice his eyes close fully, and you greet him by running the blunt edge of the knife, ice cold in comparison, against the outside of his thigh. His eyes snap open to attention instantly as he inhales a hissing kind of breath.

     “Keep your eyes open,” you command.

     “Okay,” he murmurs back, voice quiet and low, but still a touch _arrogant_ to your ears.

     “How many shirts did you bring with you, Dirk?” you ask sweetly, curiously. How he answers is irrelevant; the question is essentially an exercise in authority for you.

     “Six,” he answers.

     You smirk. “You won’t miss this one, then.”

* * *

GT: Probably not i guess. The guys just so smooth all the time hed probably find another way to make me feel bad about this brouhaha.  
TG: or hit on u  
GT: To be honest roxy i might enjoy that right now. Its better than thinking im positively abhorrent.  
TG: U R NOT AHBORENT  
TG: *however tf u spell that  
TG: for fucks sake ur hot ok?  
GT: *gulp.* Miss lalonde?  
TG: ur hot and funny and charming  
TG: those 2 arent the only ones who wanted a piece of u  


* * *

     You slowly inch the blade up his shirt, making sure not to touch, graze, or make any contact with Dirk’s skin with the knife. When the tip of the knife touches the top part of the shirt’s collar, you stop and drink in all the lovely details you’re privy to.

     Dirk’s breathing deeply, slowly, like he’s trying to calm down even though you haven’t really _done_ anything to him yet. His eyes are open like you instructed, but the gaze is less intense, less critical. His pupils are noticeably larger than they usually are, like he's tried some wonderful kind of intoxicating substance, and you know exactly what that means.

     You go from kneeling between his legs to straddling his hips, and you notice him shaking a little, like he wants to thrust upward and get some of his pent up energy out. Instead, you bring your legs closer together around his, making him unable to move. He tries once more to bring his hips up, but when he realizes he can’t, his mouth scrunches up in frustration.

     His groin feels even hotter against you, and you can feel yourself getting wet in anticipation.

     “Don’t move,” you tell him in a voice giving away a little more lust than you had wanted, and he goes rigid, his manacled hands balling up into fists. You hold his shirt tight and bring the blade forward, towards yourself, watching as the previously-unused knife makes quick work of the shirt, cutting through it as if it were butter. Dirk lets out a soft, breathy moan as the shirt tears, exposing his chest to you. 

* * *

TG: i nvr said nething b/c theyre my friends  
GT: Roxy are you confessing to me?  
TG: ya  
TG: ya i am  
GT: I thought that perhaps you had been a bit flirtatious in the past but i chocked it up to inebriation. I apologize for not investigating it further. Do forgive me!  
TG: stop sayin ur sorry jake  
TG: uve apologized enough 4 one lifetiem  
TG: *time  


* * *

     You want to savor this moment. You wish you could take in every one of his tiny, perhaps involuntary muscle movements, the widening of his eyes, the beautiful revelation of his amazing chest and torso, and that small ghost of a moan that you just know he didn’t want to let out. You want to stop time and play it over and over again, but there’s still more of his shirt to cut away from him first.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the short updates...

      Your heart feels like it’s going to be destroyed at the rate it’s pounding. While it’s not exactly akin to running or fighting, your heart rate’s up high enough that you want to huff or pant a little. When you see Jane bring the knife to your sleeve, you can’t hold back anymore – you give a loud, pressured exhale, closing your eyes to relax.

      You suddenly feel cold metal – cold, sharp metal – against the exposed part of your arm, the sensation traveling in a slow, dragging motion towards your neck. The temperature makes it hard to tell if it’s actually cutting into you or not; you immediately open your eyes back up and _gulp_.

      There’s Jane, looking down at you, unflinching blue eyes boring holes into your orange irises. There’s something methodical about them – devoted, too, but the way she handles the knife is effortless. You guess that’s what happens when you’re the heiress of a baking conglomerate. You can feel your lips slightly parted, still trying to find a way to cool down, a fact that hits you harder when you see Jane’s eyes focus on your mouth.

      “I told you not to close your eyes,” she _coos_. “I need you to be present.”

      You understand that part of this is because she needs a way to make sure you’re okay, but at the same time, this is pushing limits you didn’t think you had. Everything about you is exposed right now – well, _almost_ everything.

      She makes quick work of your right sleeve, cutting it in a way that it falls from your skin and then does similarly to your left sleeve. You find yourself still struggling to remain obedient, and your ragged breathing is a certain sign of it. You’ve never been on any kind of drugs, but you’re pretty sure this is comparable. You can feel a thin layer of sweat across your skin, coupling with your increased heart rate. Your whole body is at attention, adrenaline running rampantly through your system. The room seems distant – you even forgot for a moment that you’re handcuffed to a bed – but every single one of Jane’s touches feels ten times more intense, ten times more _real._

She runs her palm and fingers over your shoulders, brushing off the torn pieces of fabric. God, the feeling of _actual human contact, finally_ is intoxicating beyond what you thought it could be. She rubs at your shoulders, presumably making sure you still have blood flowing through there, but all you can register is how soothing it is.

      You find yourself fighting yet again to keep your eyes open for her, trying to discern any ounce of purpose or feeling from her face. She doesn’t have the stoic smirk or poker face you’ve got, but she looks so focused and consumed by what she’s doing that you’re not quite sure if she’s thinking about anything else except what else she has planned for you. 


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised an update in three days. Here it is.
> 
> Big time NSFW.

      He is beautiful: a panting, frantic, nervous wreck of conflicted feelings he wishes he could hide. You take a deep breath to compose yourself; you’ve wanted something like this for a long, long time.

      “You know what’s funny,” you start, taking the knife and dragging it with just enough pressure along his sides, watching his eyes light up and hearing his breath hitch, “Jake thought he’d be the one taking advantage of _me_.” You giggle, taking your time as you slowly continue the process in random ribbons across his chest, his stomach, and barely along the waistband of his boxers.

      This is the part you love the most: toying with him. He’s caught between looking at your face, trying to discern how far you’ll actually go, and looking at the silvery, ten-inch knife pressing against his hot skin, threatening to go just a little deeper than he might be comfortable with. You’re watching for his tells, though; if his open eyes look a little _too_ tense, you’ve gone too far.

      “You must trust me a lot, don’t you Dirk?”

      “I...” his voice is fuzzy, distant. He’s in a haze; it’s almost cute!

      “Or is it that you trusted yourself and didn’t expect anything like this?”

      You know he’ll give you an honest answer. “Yeah...that...”

      “So, you’ll do anything I want, right?”

      “Yes.”

      “Good.”

      You take the very tip of the knife and slip it under his waistband, just high enough not to touch anything too sensitive. He _groans_ , chest actually shaking, trying with every ounce of restraint and self-control not to move his hips and accidentally cause your hand to slip. The temperature difference must be an intense feeling for him, especially given how ready you know he is – you notice a small stain of precum of his boxers.

      As much as you’d love to taunt him endlessly, you do have needs. You put the knife down onto the floor near Dirk’s glasses and slip off your red panties, tossing them with care to the edge of the bed. You decide to leave your top and glasses on, a tangible symbol of the power you have over him, completely exposed, bare, and at your mercy.

      You bring your knees to his sides and you see him tremble, just the tiniest bit. His hips move upwards, and you practically growl at him, “Don’t you dare.” His whole body goes rigid.

      “Okay, Jane.”

      “Don’t use my name. You’ve said it enough times to try to work me over. You’ll have to earn it.”

      “Yes ma’am.”

      You can feel yourself smiling; you probably shouldn’t, but right now, he’s being perfect: compliant, willing, ready, obedient. You can’t help yourself. Still, you lean over to his ear and whisper, as assertively as your voice will allow: “If this is too much, even now, you say so, and we’ll do something else. Not that I think you’re unwilling, given how hard you are. Do you understand me?”

      “Yes ma’am.” _God_ , you could get used to him saying that.

      You give him a gentle kiss on the mouth, savoring the taste of his lips for the last time. You grab at the base of his dick – remarkably hard and hot to the touch – and guide him to your entrance as you slowly, _slowly_ , lower yourself onto him at last.

      You close your eyes in spite of yourself, and you let out a shuddering kind of moan, bringing your hands to his sides to give yourself a little extra balance. You anticipated that the sensation of being stretched and pushed would be much more than his fingers by looking at his penis, but you didn’t really know what to expect – he’s much thicker than you thought, and his head is pressing parts of you that you’ve never been able to reach yourself. It stings, just a little, but you like a little pain.

      You whisper, voice low and full of lust, “ _God_ , yes,” and rock yourself back and forth against him, tentatively getting used to the sensation. Soon, you change the motion to slow, cautious gyrations, and you swear you can feel your eyes rolling back in your head as you throw your head back with a loud sigh. You move your hands back to his shoulders and clutch him, bringing your head back forward and looking at him, still moving your hips in small circles.

      His eyes are open; he hasn’t forgotten your direction, thank goodness. His breathing is loud, shaky, and as you bring a little more of your weight down upon him, he groans, biting his lip as if trying to control himself. You hear a kind of growl in his throat, and even he seems a little shocked by it, his eyes opening a little more and suddenly focused on your reaction. You know what he wants.

      “No thrusting,” you instruct him, opting instead to ride him at your own pace. You lift yourself a few inches off of his length without removing him entirely, and begin an up and down rhythm, slow and constant, though a bit taunting. Just as you start to speed up, finding exactly what parts of you like being touched, stroked, and stretched, he actually gives a full-bodied, gasping _moan_. It’s not very loud, but he’s slowly coming undone.

      His breath hitches when he feels your knees close in closer to him, vice-like as you crave more pressure and tightness. You find a good, medium pace, arching your back just enough and shifting your pelvis in a way that his pubic bone can occasionally touch your clit. You don’t necessarily want to give him the satisfaction, but you scream, the extra stimulation being an overload. You hear him muttering some syllables, unintelligibly, and you get frustrated.

      “Spit it out, spit it out, oh my God,” you manage, voice filled with exasperation and longing.

      “Please, let me close my eyes.”

      “Please who?” you snap back, bringing more of your weight into the plunge this time to make him groan and hiss.

      “Please, ma’am, mistress, please just let me close my eyes, please--”

      “Fine, you can close them. What do you say?”

      “Thank you, oh god,” he manages as he shuts his eyes tight like he’s overwhelmed. You bring one hand to his hair and give it a solid pull as you rock a little more with your own bobbing, and it earns you a deliciously lewd, throaty rasp from him.  


	30. Chapter 30

      The tug on your hair sends a thrill down your spine. You fight every urge to buck up into her, instead bringing your back upwards, arching. Every single one of Jane’s movements feels closer, more intense, and the ability at last to shut off something so vulnerable to you is amazing. You’re not really thinking too much anymore, surprisingly; that same intoxicating feeling that hit you when she first cut your shirt apart has washed over your mind. The only things you can register at this point are sensations, Jane’s proximity to you, her body, her voice, and _maybe_ at times your own voice and reactions.

      She completely surrounds you, hot, slick, wet walls pressing against your dick with small, nearly imperceptible tensing of muscles as she rides you torturously slow now, keeping you painfully hard and almost ready to plead. You try to hold back any sounds, opting instead to give yourself release with long, deep hisses and occasional pant with a gravelly kind of undertone caught in your throat. She’s taking her dear time with you, and there’s something ineffable about the arousal that comes from the layers of helplessness and powerlessness you’ve found yourself under, knowing you’ve become Jane’s personal plaything.

      You feel her shift forward on you, adding more pressure onto you, making her feel even tighter around your dick as your tip strokes a part of her that feels a little different than the rest of her. It’s only a brief moment, but when you hear her practically _keen_ before tugging at your hair again, you know without missing a beat that she’s going to speed up. She does, of course, and you open your eyes for a moment to drink in what’s really being done to you.

      All you can see is Jane on top of you, riding you rough enough that you think your hips might bruise, your dick only visible in small amount as she vigorously takes you in and out of herself. Her hand moves from your head to the sheet, and you can feel from the sheet moving beneath you that she’s clutching it tightly. Her eyes are slammed shut, teeth biting down on her lip as she lets out a high-pitched, short scream, quickly snapping her hips to make your cock touch that same sweet spot inside of her with more pressure.

      You can feel her start to tighten up against you even more, and with the added pressure, you can’t hold back noise anymore. You’re barely aware of yourself and your loosely rattled litany of pants, moans, and grunts; it’s only when she starts talking to you in that lust-strained voice that keeps getting higher pitched that you’re cognizant of the noises you’ve been letting her hear.

      “God, you’re thick,” she manages, still riding you hard and fast. She mewls, hips jerking again. “Keep moaning, I like it, but don’t you dare think you’re going to finish before I do.” You gulp back another moan; Jane’s command makes you feel yet another bit of helplessness. She rocks and bobs against you, still using the head of your dick to touch that very sensitive part inside of her, and without seeing anything, you know her face has to be contorted in ecstasy as she starts making these high-pitched, quick, staccato sounds, each strained feminine sigh filling the negative space as her walls squeeze you, tighter, tighter, faster, and faster...

      ...until suddenly, there’s one last sound, choked and stifled, as the pressure surrounding your cock suddenly increases at least fivefold, wet and hot tightness spasming around you quick and in uncontrollable intervals. It lasts for what seems like eternity and ends too soon, and yet you’re still hard, still waiting for release as you look up at her, face flushed pink and with a soft, thin layer of sweet-smelling sweat, hair matted to her forehead, ample chest heaving as she inhales deeply before looking at you with half-lidded eyes.

      She removes you from her and presses her torso entirely against yours, buring her face into your neck. An period of time, undeterminable to you, passes wordlessly before she kisses you, gently and softly, on the lips. You are too pent up, too tense, and still too aroused to let her only give you a sweet peck; you courageously bite a little into her lip, practically begging her to part her lips and give you entry. She does, giving you at last even the tiniest method of releasing some of your frustrated passion. You explore her mouth with your tongue, kisses more sloppy and enthusiastic than anything masterful or planned, and when Jane breaks the kiss, she looks at you and smiles.

      “I’m not going to leave you like that,” she whispers, voice obviously aware of your own plight, and you can feel your heart – among _other_ things – sing.  


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of my research for "writing ships I don't ship" generally involves looking through the ship's associated tags on tumblr. I saw murmurs and requests for *this* in particular when I started writing this about a month ago. So...I planned in in advance? And now it's going to happen?

      You leave Dirk on the bed and cross back to your red chest, removing your glasses and leaving them on your desk in the process. You look inside and let yourself have a smile while he’s not looking – you know he’ll enjoy what’s coming next. It’s funny to you – you wouldn’t have even thought of this at all if it weren’t for Jake telling you about Dirk’s possible crush on him and his own conflicted feelings towards him. You leave _that_ in the chest for now, opting instead for a simple blindfold.

      Dirk eyes what’s in your hand with a little suspicion. You calm him down, explaining, “This is temporary.”

      “Yes ma’am.”

      You walk to him, making sure not to hurt his head or still-restrained arms, and cover his eyes, rendering him effectively blind. You rub at his shoulders, sides, and back up to his arms again, still making sure he’s comfortable and not having any kind of circulation issues – you may enjoy having this much power over him, but you don’t want him to be hurt in any ways he wouldn’t want. You give him a small, almost chaste peck on the mouth before telling him “I’ll be right back,” turning again to the chest and taking out its contents, two items in particular.

      You’ve never used this, but still, you _do_ care about Dirk’s welfare. You leave your bedroom door open, wide enough so he can hear everything you’re doing. He’s smart; he’ll be able to figure out your reasons. You also don’t want for him to think you’ve broken his trust.

      You walk into the bathroom, cradling your “gift” for Dirk as you make certain to leave the door open. After slowly and painstakingly washing your hands, you turn on the water at full blast (for volume purposes), making sure to use a soap that won’t damage the silicone or possibly damage the straps. You’re a little nervous about actually _using_ this on him, but the idea of making him finally forfeit control not just because he’ll want to, but because he _can’t help himself_ anymore is exciting.

      You take a good look at it – a realistic, thick, eight inch strap-on dildo – as you lay it onto a towel and pat it dry. You had bought it with some of the money your father gave you in his “dadly trust,” as part of your plans for Jake as something you wanted to try. Well...what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Either of them, really.

      You double check the second item you grabbed – a bottle of lube – and make sure that there’s a sufficient amount, that it isn’t oil-based (a double check doesn’t hurt), that the bottle itself doesn’t look damaged, dirty, or otherwise unusable. Once you know that everything is dry and clean (including your hands), you walk back to the room, letting the door click behind you.

      Dirk looks so cute: his body language shows he’s still pretty tense, and if his cock is any indication, he’s still pretty much ready. You’re glad you tried to work as quickly as you could for his sake. You secure the strap-on and double check that it won’t fall off of you as you finally come to the bed, kneeling in front of his naked form. You place the bottle the bottle of lube against his leg, and he tenses up, attention focused on the pressure your body leaves on the bed, and the hand you bring to his face to as you take off the blindfold to show him what you’ve brought back for him.

      His face is absolutely _beautiful_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I hope you don't mind that I didn't put it in the tags so as to keep the whole "plot twist sexytimes" a kinda-sorta secret?


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the lack of updates; I haven't had the motivation, energy, or strength to write over the last few days because of medical problems. Hopefully, they'll be over with soon. Another chapter should be up tonight.

      You can’t take your eyes off of what Jane’s “gift” to you is. You manage to look her in the face for a moment and see the smallest of smirks light up on her face, and for some reason, it only adds fuel to the myriad conflicting feelings you’re experiencing at the moment. You’re exposed, aroused, embarrassed because you _know_ she has every single upper hand right now, and a feeling you’re not entirely comfortable acknowledging: you’re a little scared. She could literally do anything to you, but when you look back at the strap-on, that fear that manifests itself as tension manages to convert itself to more arousal.

      “I figured if Jake really _did_ consider being with you, he must have considered something like this happening,” she says, voice both pleasant and _arrogant_. “What do you think, Dirk? Do you like it?”

      She’s lording authority and power over you. Part of you doesn’t want to say anything, having regained some sense of composure during her absence, but another part of you really just wants to get fucked. “Y-yeah,” you manage, voice finally above a whisper with some confidence.

      “‘Yeah’, what?” She’s doing the same thing you did to her yesterday.

      “Yeah, I like it.”

      “Do you want me to use this on you?” You notice her grab the bottle of lube near your leg, squeezing a little bit out into her hand as she starts stroking the dildo in long, smooth, graceful motions. You look at it while she prepares it, thick, smooth, and now thinly coated in slippery lubricant, and you hear yourself let out a small groan despite yourself. You’d love to do a lot of things to –-

      You feel a smack against your leg. Jane glares at you, snarking, “I’m up here. Look at me and answer me. I’ll ask you once more: do you want me to use to this on you?”

      “Yes, I want you to use it on me,” you reply as quickly as possible. You could tell she was getting impatient. “Please.”

      She smiles. “Good to see you haven’t forgotten your manners.”  

      She squeezes out a little more lube into her right hand, working it between her fingers for a moment. Your eyes never leave her hands as she starts, first gently circling around with one finger (presumably to gauge your reaction to the temperature, if the feeling of her eyes on you tells you anything) before starting slowly, one digit at a time.

      For as much as you know, as much as you’ve watched, this is the first time you’ve ever experienced this, and...it’s different. You want to flinch, shake, resist, _something_ , but then Jane’s there with her other hand, smoothing your chest and calming you down as she works.

      “Relax,” she starts. “I haven’t done anything you haven’t liked.”

      She’s right. You take a deep breath and try to clear your mind as you feel her start to insert a second finger, slowly and carefully. She makes a scissoring motion with the two, eventually going deeper than you anticipated. You feel _something_ hit you like a jolt momentarily, a _thrill_ like electricity down your spine, and _oh God,_ she should do that again.

      She giggles; apparently, you moaned and muttered something that, honestly, you can’t quite remember. All you know is you want that feeling again. Jane takes her fingers out and adds a little more lubricant before letting in a third finger, working you and stretching you, teasing that same spot a few times as she makes sure you’re prepared.

      She undoes her top, finally making herself as exposed and bare as you are, and throws it to the floor as she grabs your legs, maneuvering you to line up. The head of the strapon brushes you, teases you; the material sends a small shiver through your body and you sigh, hiss.

      “Tell me you want this,” she says, still pleasant as ever.

      “I want it, please, just...” She laughs at your inability to find words. “God dammit, fuck me – just,” your teeth cut off the last word. “I want you to fuck me, please.”

      She grips your hip with one hand as she uses the other to guide herself in, torturously slow, as you feel the last bit of your dignity and ability to remember anything fall out of your head with a litany of strained, pleading sounds, over and over: “God, yes, thank you...more, more, please...”


	33. Chapter 33

      Your first thrusts are slow, deep, steady. If only Dirk knew what his little reactions were doing to _you_. Having this much influence over someone so strong, so much bigger than you, being able to make him shut his eyes, clutch the sheets, and _whimper, beg_ is absolutely enthralling to you. You give him one _full_ thrust, watching as your body is practically flush to his, and you hear him give an actual _moan_ , full-bodied and husky, while he shifts his legs as best he can to accommodate you.

      You take his gestures as a sign that you can pick up the pace, so you begin to drive into him faster, watching his face scrunch up and his eyes close tight as he bites his lip. The metal of his restrains starts to clang in your ears as you notice him try to grab something, make a fist, do _anything_ with his hands. His breathing is getting heavier; he’s practically panting. You shift your strokes the _tiniest bit,_ and suddenly, he screams.

      “Fuck!” he’s not even holding back anymore. It’s not a raised whisper, not a sigh, not some breathy buzz, and it’s a beautiful noise.

      “Do you want me to do that again?” You wait until he looks up at you as he’s jarred out of his state by your slowed pace. You can’t help but smile a little at his frustration.

      “Holy fuck, _yes_ ,” he rasps out, and you stop. He looks like he’s about to _cry_ before he realizes what you want. “Please...”

      “Please who?”

      “Please, heiress, fuck me, fuck me hard, faster, don’t make me wait-”

      You smile. “Okay, but you are not allowed to hold back a single noise from me.”

      He nods in compliance, and you start again, back at the same slow pace, just barely brushing against that spot that makes him moan. He grunts expectedly, but you have some of your own needs to take care of, too. There’s an indirect stimulation _you’re_ getting from the strapon, and you’d rather not use _all_ of your efforts only on him, as much as you enjoy seeing him like this.

      Still, he starts making this _noise_. It’s light, constant, and only growing in volume as you pick up the pace and force of your thrusts. He’s chanting, like a private mantra, “Oh God, Oh God, fuck, _fuck_ , Oh, _God_ ,” unable to keep a steady stream. You decide to give him something worth making that beautiful, beautiful screaming sound for again, and strike that spot inside him _hard,_ over and over again.

      You see his back starting to arch as he pants out words of approval; his accent is starting to slip out, and he doesn’t even seem to care or notice. His face is flushed red, _almost_ as red as his cock looks, and you know he’s aching for release. You can’t help but laugh a little to yourself.

      “Do you want it harder?” you tease.

      “Yes,” he snaps, practically cutting you off.

      You keep the pace steady this time and watch for any tells. You noticed his voice sounded shaky just now, so you know he’s probably _high_ by now. Still, you want to break him one last bit.

      “Tell me how hard you want it.” You keep your voice as steady and calm as possible, even though the combination of his sweaty, panting form and the stimulation you’re getting from the way the strapon is touching you is getting you pretty close as well.

      “Just – God, f-fucking, plow me, f-”

      “Want it to hurt?”

      “God dammit, leave me sore, just don’t stop, _please_...”

      You oblige him. It’s tiring, but to hear him like this is so positively filthy it has to be illegal. You stop being gentle and slam into him, hitting that same spot as hard as possible. He keens, actually _screaming_ like he’s in a dirty movie, and you decide to take his request literally, grasping his hips hard enough to bruise with the force of each thrust behind your grip.

      His screams turn into a blur of unintelligible syllables, squeaks, and raspy, _hoarse_ moans, and you decide to let him have release. You stop, strapon completely inside of him, and stroke his cock with your still-slick hand, surprisingly hot to the touch, and his moans settle slowly into deep breaths and pants. Dirk whispers as he gets close, voice too worn out to go much louder, “Yes, yes, yes...”

      You feel him throb in your hand over and over as lets out a squeaky, choked _mewl_ , spilling generously onto his stomach and your hand. You watch his head fall, resting on one side of your pillow, looking like someone flipped the “off” switch for him. You slip the strapon out of him with care, sighing heavily. You are both still and quiet, overwhelmed and overloaded...you did not expect that kind of rush from it, but you certainly hoped for it for a while.

      Dirk opens his orange eyes for a moment a few seconds later, and you gesture to him that you’ll be right back. You, still in a haze, find the remants of Dirk’s shirt on the floor and use it to clean him and yourself up first and foremost. You then undo the straps on yourself and walk back to the chest to put it away, doing the same with the knife. Your legs feel like they’re made of gelatin the whole time.

      Finally, you undo his manacles and let them drop to the floor, letting his arms rest at last on the soft mattress. He says nothing – he doesn’t even look up at you – but you know it must feel good to be free of that. You take a moment to rub at his shoulders one last time, making sure nothing is strained or cold, and manage to press up against him like you did the night before as you close your eyes.

      You feel like you’ve run a marathon. You guess he does too.

      In that hazy, dreamy state between sleep and waking, you feel Dirk bring an arm around you, fingers stroking lazily at your stomach before you finally fall asleep. It’s been quite a day, and you’re glad that one of the quiet secrets you’ve kept to yourself has finally been allowed release.


	34. Chapter 34

      Your name is Dirk Strider and are never getting out of this bed. Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but it would take quite a bit of motivation to get you to extricate yourself from where you are. You’re awake now, sure, but you do _not_ feel like moving for a lot of reasons.

      First off, although you feel like you just got the most restful sleep your _life_ , you have this strange feeling that as soon as you get up, you’re going want to go back to sleep. You’re guessing you fell asleep pretty deep, but not for very long. Secondly, your whole lower body is sore. You can feel a hot, stinging sensation, and you know that it’s _definitely_ bruises coming into full bloom. _Hot damn,_ Jane completely _wrecked you._ Speaking of which...

      ...the third reason you don’t want to leave is that Jane is still here, little spoon to your big spoon, and it’s comforting. She still smells sweet, even with the lingering, musky scent of after-sex on the two of you. You let yourself press closer to her, gliding your hand to hers, and you feel a disturbance in her slow, deep breathing.

      She rustles, turns, and looks at you. “Dirk?”

      “Hey there. I can call you Jane now, right?”

      “Yes, of course,” she replies laughing. It’s kind of hard to believe she’s the same person. “How are you? Still in a daze?”

      “I think I’ve come down,” you respond. She knew you’d be out of it? Well, of course she’d know, you guess. “Thanks for asking.”

      “You’re _very_ welcome.” She turns to her other side to face you, and you let yourself have a kiss on the lips, sweet and soft. It’s still very foreign to you, but it’s not bad. “So, I assume we should probably shower. You first or me?”

      “Ladies first.”

      “Such a gentleman.” She gives one quick peck to you on the cheek before she walks out. When you hear the water in the bathroom running, you finally get a moment to think about everything that’s just happened.

      Jane Crocker is the most old-fashioned person you know, and the biggest secret pervert and sex expert you’ve ever met. She’s a cunning observer with a heart of gold. She makes you feel like you’re strong and knows she outclasses you in ways you weren’t even aware of. She’s a doggone angel who just proved she can beat you at your own games, and you think you might just love her for it.

      You now know exactly what she meant when she said there were some things a girl can’t tell her father.

      When she returns, she’s already dressed with her hair perfectly dry and in place – she must have taken an outfit with her, you guess. Wow, she’s really on top of things. You give her a nod and manage to amble out of bed, legs sore and little blue bruises starting to throb on your sides. You deserve it, but you wouldn’t change it.

      About an hour later, the two of you decide to clean up the house. Jane shows you something she thinks you might find interesting – a piano. You don’t have a nice, acoustic one like she does, and the sound completely fascinates you. She shows you how to play.

      You sit at the piano bench with her, sitting to her left. You both agree that since she’s right handed and you’re not, that you could probably play something together that’s pretty complicated and beautiful if you can work out some of the finer points of timing and cooperation.

      You fail, mashing and offensive “harmonies” ringing for far too long in the room and through the house. It’s so ugly that the two of you can’t help but laugh it off. Still, she plays a few songs for you that you get Li’l Seb to record to send to you – you’ve never used acoustic piano loops in any of your raps before. This could be interesting.

      You know you need to leave soon. The ride to the airport with her is tense, full of questions.

      “Do you think Jake will get over this?” you ask.

      “I think he might forgive me. You...well, I don’t know.”

      “I understand,” you offer.

      “I think Roxy’s okay with it, but you’ll have to do some convincing.”

      “She’s a tough nut to crack.”

      “Are you sure this is what you want?”

      “Actually?” you pause. “Yeah. I am.”

      She smiles, and for the first time in quite a while, you’re being completely sincere. You have no ulterior motives, no puppeteer-esque orchestrations, no deep-seated ironic gestures planned. Plus, you’re pretty sure she’d figure them out if you tried, seeing how she already did. When you get home, you have a lot of work to do: apologizing, making amends, and adjusting the AR so Roxy can’t hack him again.

      You give her a kiss before she leaves. 


	35. Chapter 35

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] –-

TT: Hey Jane. Just wanted to let you know I’m back home and safe.  
GG: Oh good! How was your plane trip?  
TT: Thankfully uneventful. Anything happening there with you?  
GG: Dad should be back soon, but nothing else is going on. Roxy still isn’t speaking to me and neither is Jake.  
TT: Do you regret it?  
GG: I regret not doing the right thing in the first place, but...that’s really all.  
TT: We’re in the same situation, then.  
GG: I do wonder what Roxy and Jake are up to, though.  
TT: Me too, but I still think they need a few days.  
GG: How are those “loops” working out for you?  
TT: I haven’t opened them yet, actually. I wanted to check in with you first.  
GG: :)

* * *

\-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering golgothasTerror [GT] \--

TG: ALERT ALART ALRT  
TG: *alert x3  
GT: Whats that raucous noise i hear?! *stands tall with his pistols at the ready!*   
TG: ATTENTION JAKE ENGLISH  
TG: YOU ARE ABOUT TO BE A HOST  
GT: Ive seen enough scifi movies to know where this is going and you wont take me without a fight!  
TG: lol  
TG: ur goana be a host...to...  
GT: To?  
TG: ME  
GT: What?  
TG: im comin over  
GT: I havent cleaned the place! Theres no way im having a lady over when my domicile is in complete disarray.  
GT: Anyone really now that i think about it its just too dangerous.  
TG: too bad  
TG: not takin no for an answer  
TG: uve been there on that island by urself too long  
TG: i think you need a frind  
TG: *friend  
GT: Thats very kind of you roxy but my concerns still stand.  
TG: clean up the place!  
GT: What of the beasts?  
TG: idgaf  
GT: *gulp.*  
TG: ill takem down  
GT: *double gulp.*  
TG: im serious!  
GT: Well if your heart is so set on it then by all means. Who am i to say no?  
GT: Plus youre right. It would be good to see a friend especially you.  
TG: ;D  
GT: *smiles.*  
TG: i will opena canna whoopass if i need to  
TG: turn hellmurder island into the hills are aliuve w/the sound of mussic

* * *

TT: Well, that’s strange.  
GG: What’s the matter?  
TT: The music files won’t play.  
GG: Oh no! Not even one?  
TT: All of them are distorted, scratchy, and making these loud skipping noises.  
GG: All of our hard work was for nothing? :(  
TT: It sure sounds like it. Literally.   
GG: Augh!  
TT: Well, I guess we can figure something out the next time we see each other. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the story proper. I realize this is not the ending most people would want. However, believe it or not, I have a general rule of thumb that says "if you do the wrong things, you don't get a happy ending." And the won't get a fully happy ending until everything is rectified.
> 
> WHAT DOES THAT MEAN, YOU ASK?
> 
> There will be a sequel to this story which will focus on Roxy's trip to see and comfort Jake. Most likely, there will be a third piece after that which will tie off all of the loose ends of this entire story arc/idea.
> 
> There will be one last chapter added to this story, which explain all the allusions and references used throughout the text, in case anyone was curious and perhaps wanted to trace the "lineage" of this tale.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. This was the first fan fic I've ever written, and I was very, very nervous!


	36. Citations, References, Additional notes.

  * This entire piece was inspired by “The Revenger’s Tragedy,” a  play of contested authorship (scholars are still in debate), first performed in 1606. The name of that play is obliquely mentioned in the text: Roxy misspells revenge as “revenger,” Dirk calls his plan a “revenger’s ploy,” and AR calls Jane breaking off the date with Jake a “tragedy.”
  * AR actually says the title of this piece in chapter 2.
  * Dirk’s spiel describing the kind of man Roxy deserves in chapter 1 is a reference to her pre-scratch self’s blossoming relationship with Dad Egbert.
  * In chapter 3, Dirk mentions that “only a weird alien” would think her requests were filthy or pornographic. This is an allusion to the MSPA page “uu: Jeer Past Dirk.”
  * The entire work employs several memes from the source material and the source material’s sub-comic, SBaHJ. (I assume I won’t need to cite them for fans of the comic.)
  * The choice for ‘red velvet cake’ is a reference to the fandom’s addition to the Betty Crocker recipe website, “The Condesce’s Red Velvet Cake of Imperial Worth.” It has since been taken down from the BC website, but you can still find screenshots of the recipe if you’re clever.
  * The cake selection was also a way to work in as many phallus jokes as possible.
  * The measurements for the cake and frosting are from actual red velvet cake and frosting recipes.
  * Dirk’s showering times are inverted references to story arc numbers.
  * The person who requested this fic introduced me to the pairing as the “Portal Ship.” There are two major references to the game Portal in this story. First, the fact that the cake doesn’t get made, thus making the cake “a lie.” The second reference is during the movie scene; “Cara Mia” is the name of the turret opera that plays at the end of the game Portal 2.
  * The movie “Casablanca” focuses on a potential adulterous relationship. This is why Jane reacted with such hostility to its suggestion.
  * The movie they did pick, Rocky Horror Picture Show, was intentionally chosen as a mockery of the situation in the story: it features a queer male (Dr. Frank) showing interest in and seducing both a male (Brad Majors) and a female (Janet Weiss), both of whom are about to get married and make love for the first time.
  * The “major plot twist” was being quietly hinted at as early as chapter 3. The biggest hint comes at what Jane does when she’s making the frosting for the cake later. ;)
  * One thing that was omitted: in chapter 6, there were originally going to be “imaginary fatherly notes” like Jane mentions. I omitted them because it was *too* funny for that part.
  * I intentionally planted subtext for two other ships: Dirk/Roxy and Roxy/Jane.  So, if you noticed any of that, you weren’t losing your mind. :D




End file.
